


I See Before Me The Hand of God

by chaos_is_welcome



Series: Coccham Chronicles [1]
Category: The Last Kingdom (TV)
Genre: Aethelstan - Freeform, Bastards Bonding, Because everyone is amazing, Canon Compliant, Character Study, Eadith is amazing, Eadith needs to have a place to belong, Everyone bonding, F/M, Family, Feels, Finan has heart eyes, Introspection, Post-Season/Series 04, The lost bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:14:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 64,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24266458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaos_is_welcome/pseuds/chaos_is_welcome
Summary: There was a long period of time where he forgot what it was to feel anything.  At first, when he went to the slavers, there was pain and fear, and occasionally hope.  Hope died first, followed by fear.  Soon the only thing left to fear was pain.  Humiliation had come and gone long ago.  Death would be a mercy.ORFinan provides a running commentary on all things.Eadith x Finan but also Finan & everyone because they are all so lovely.
Relationships: Eadith/Finan (The Last Kingdom)
Series: Coccham Chronicles [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1807663
Comments: 171
Kudos: 194





	1. In a dry and weary land there is no water

**Author's Note:**

> Rested m for upcoming chapters. There were not sufficient tags for all the relationships here. Aethelstan will play a major role.

There was a long period of time where he forgot what it was to feel anything. At first, when he went to the slavers, there was pain and fear, and occasionally hope. Hope died first, followed by fear. Soon the only thing left to fear was pain. Humiliation had come and gone long ago. Death would be a mercy. For quite some time he hoped for death, but soon that too faded. Finally, hope died. He would not die, not any time soon. The good Lord surely was merciful, but Sverri and his men were not. Perhaps the choices he had made at home, the choices that had landed him here, had cursed him to a life of pain as penance for his sins. It was not enough that he had lost everything, but he also had to lose his freedom, then his dignity, and then his will to live. 

He can’t even remember the last time he even thought about much of anything. He is certain that it was snowing the last time he had considered the passage of time. Now it is warm(er) as Sverri rows them to the beach for a brief time. Sverri will need to replenish the seven slaves that died since last they landed, thrown overboard to feed the fish when they could no longer pull their weight with the oars. It had probably been slower going with seven gone, but he hadn’t noticed. Time meant nothing to him now. 

As they row ashore though, he notices something. There is a skirmish on the shore, as two men fight against their captors and try to run. Hm. He thinks he recognizes what he sees, and tries to put a name to it. Ah, yes . . . hope. These men still have hope. The whip, the hunger and the bitter cold will strip it from them soon enough. He has survived longer than most, and has seen it happen time and again. Most give in quickly. Some hold out longer, but they always give in. 

The two men who tried to make a run for it end up chained in front of him. The long-haired one is closest, and looks and speaks like a Dane. The man traveling with him, though, is clearly Saxon. Yet the Saxon looks up to the Dane, looks to him for every decision, even though the both sit in chains. 

“Stand fast, Halig,” the Dane murmurs when Sverri’s man walks away to secure the remaining new acquisitions. “We’ll find a way out of this yet.”

“Yes, Lord,” the man called Halig says, bowing his head.

Something strange happens. He feels the need to speak. “There are no Lords 'ere,” he says, his voice sounding strange and gravely, even to his own ears. “Best ye not let 'em hear ye called that, lest they think ye have more value.” Hm, look there, an entire sentence. When was the last time that had happened? He thinks it was perhaps the second time they had crossed Nordse. The man he had spoken it to had become ill two days later, and fed to the sharks. He hadn’t known the man’s name. 

“Perhaps our new friend is right, Halig,” the Dane says. “Call me Osbert. And what shall we call you?” Steady blue eyes meet his, and it’s strange. Once, long ago, he was very good at reading people. There is something in this Osbert’s blue eyes that say he has lost a great deal, that he understands he is about to lose a lot more. There is pride there, but even under that pride, there is iron.

Osbert’s man Halig turns and squares his shoulders. He thinks that Halig follows the man because he wants to. It’s strange, to read people after so long. His life has been nothing but pull, eat, sleep, shit for so many moons that it is odd to think of something so human. Is it possible he has met someone that may not crumble before his eyes to Sverri’s cruelty and become fish bait? Many men beg by the second day, many more succumb to histerics by the first moon and are silenced. Perhaps this is a man who will finally outlast him. Osbert the Dane raises an eyebrow at him. Ah, yes, he’s asked his name. He has one, or did once, and to his surprise he remembers it. He hasn’t thought of it in a very, very long time. “I am Finan," he says. At least he has not forgotten that.

**

They are free. He can hardly believe it. It takes nearly a full year from the time Uhtred and Halig are brought on board Sverri’s ship. But they are free. Halig has died, though, the martyr of their failed escape attempt in Iceland. Finan can not believe that he has not only survived another freezing winter, but that hope is a part of his vocabulary again. From the time the man that had called himself Osbert was chained in front of him, things had begun to change. And now here they sit, free men, surrounded by the strangest rescue party Finan could have imagined. There is Steapa, a member of the king’s guard that looks more like an oak tree than a man. Yet the oak roles his eyes and laughs at Uhtred’s simple statements. The oak humors the Dane, and this is added to the ever-growing list of the enigma that is Uhtred. On Uhtred’s other side sits his brother, Ragnar, a true Dane. Sitting side by side, it is clear that Uhtred is something else, not fully a Dane, but also not Saxon, despite the man he calls brother. Uhtred wears Thor’s hammer around his neck, as does Ragnar. Next to Ragnar is the strangest member of the party. Hild, the warrior nun. A warrior and a nun. Who ever would have come up with such a thing? She sits and speaks to the two pagan men before her as equals, and seems incredibly relieved to have found Uhtred alive. Had someone told him he’d witness this strange and mismatched group of travelers, he would have assumed they’d lost their minds, or he is. Yet Hild is both brave and full of faith. She finds him after he’s cleaned and helps him trim his beard. She offers to pray with him. He has not prayed out loud in a lifetime. They speak of Alfred, the King of the last Saxon kingdom. Even this man seems bound to Uhtred. So it seems obvious, when Ragnar asks him if he is also a brother to Uhtred, that he says simply, “We are bound.”

When they head south, he rides with them without a second thought. There is nothing left for Finan anywhere. He has his freedom, and he wants nothing more. Riding with Uhtred is the only choice that makes sense.

**

When they ride North again not a moon later, their traveling party has become stranger still. A bald man of the cloth called Beocca rides to them, and is incredibly close with Uhtred. Brida travels with them, too. She is Ragnar’s woman, Saxon by birth and raised as a Danish slave, yet the wild woman embraces her life as a Dane. There is something about her that is restless and that Finan distrusts. Finan learns that Uhtred, too, is Saxon, but became the adopted son of Ragnar’s father, Ragnar the Fearless. There is a blood feud waiting for Uhtred, Brida and Ragnar in the North that they speak of often, much to Father Beocca’s displeasure. The oak and the warrior nun ride with them too, along with a small army of Danes. 

In Eforwitch, Sihtric joins them. He is the bastard son of Kjarten, the Dane that killed Ragnar the Fearless and the remainder of Ragnar and Uhtred's family. Sihtric, Finan learns, was sent to assist in killing Uhtred, yet the wirey young man is as loyal to Uhtred as they come. Sihtric is cautious of Finan at first, quiet and watchful. Finan can see in his eyes steel and determination. While Sihtric does not speak to him much, Finan feels his eyes on him, taking the measure of his worth. Below the surface of those eyes, though, there is pain there, deep but not fully buried. Finan reads Sihtric's scars and sees the stories told there. They are not just the scars of battle, but the scars of a man who has been owned by another. It doesn’t take a wise man to understand that the man that is the focus of the blood feud, Kjarten, is behind Sihtric’s pain too. 

Finan finds himself making plans, and fighting beside Uhtred in battle. He finds he can speak his mind. He finds himself belonging. He finds he too, like Halig and Sihtric, wants to serve. Uhtred is a man worthy of following. So he does.

**

Once, in his last life, Finan had had a brother. He and Connell had never gotten along as brothers should. Finan envied Connell's ability to choose his own path, as Finan's has been prescribed for him. Finan did not love the woman he was to marry. Connell, meanwhile, chose his own bride- a woman Finan had known and admired since childhood. Had his fate been different, Finan would have sought her for himself. Connell did not treat her kindly, and eventually he broke her and cast her aside. Over time, Connell longed for the power he thought Finan possessed. Eventually, he sought to take it, no matter the obstacle. Finan, it turned out, was the biggest obstacle of all. Soon enough, Finan had lost everything, and it was Connell who stood on the shore, counting the silver Sverri had paid. The last words Connell spoke to him were, "You are cursed brother, and destined for Hell." While Utred lived to return to what had been taken for him, Finan did not. He did not feel the pull of his homeland. There was nothing for him there, save treachery and pain.

As he sits on the dock at Coccham, Finan admits this place is more home than Irland ever was. His Lord and their men--Uhtred and Sitric and Osferth--these men are more brothers than Connell ever was. Sometimes, Finan supposes, family is more than blood. They would not turn on him, or sell him for silver, or envy his good fortune. Finan is glad to have both home and family, after so much suffering.

**

Finan stands close, but not too close, as Uhtred digs up his dead wife, his hand on the cross around his neck. Hild says words that make the breaking of Holy Ground less severe, for his God is not Uhtred's. His Lord wishes to honor his wife in the pagan tradition, and neither Hild not Finan can find it in their hearts to deny him. Uhtred mourns Gisela greatly. 

Finan has never felt that kind of love, he is certain. He never mourned anyone as his Lord mourns now--not his mother, or his father, or the infant brother that had died shortly after birth, nameless and misshapen. He has helped Uhtred build the pyer, and stands next to Hild as it is lit. When it is time to go, it is Finan that pulls Uhtred away. Everything turns to shit in quick succession, but they do not lose each other or their freedom. Not for the first time, they ride North. For the first time since he has known Uhtred, though, his Lord leaves nothing behind.

It’s strange, but watching him mourn her, thinking of how Uhtred had loved Gisela . . . it made Finan want. He had wanted little since gaining his freedom--just silver, food and ale, and an occasional hump. He thinks perhaps it might be nice to find a woman that makes him want to come home. 

**

Finan can not believe that Sihtric has not only rode away, abandoning Uhtred in his time of need, but that he has also released Haesten's men, taken prisoner at the battle of Beamfleot. It weighs on him that Sihtric, who has always been loyal and steadfast, has chosen now to make a very vocal departure. He says that Uhtred has lost his mind, and then he leaves. In his wake, Sihtric leaves unease. The men are uncertain and grow more so by the day.

Later, as Sihtric hugs Uhtred outside the Dane camp, he can’t believe the bloody bastard pulled a fast one on him. He should have known better. Sihtric would never abandon Uhtred. None of them would. He had been blinded by circumstance, and damned if Sihtric wasn’t as cunning as they came. They fought on, and won the day.

**

Years later, Uhtred loses big again, and this time it is Father Beocca. Baby Monk says he fears it will break him, but Finan doesn't think so. Family is more than blood, and Beocca was like a father to Uhtred. His Lord has lost too much, but Beocca would not want this to be the end for Uhtred. Finan doesn't mind whispering the words he knows Beocca would say, were he here. Long ago, Uhtred helped Finan find his voice when he thought it was gone, then rekindled hope and brought freedom. What were words in light of that? Uhtred doubted himself, but the men never did. In the end though, it is the knowledge that the Lady Aethelflaed needs him that pulls his Lord from his grief. It is not the first time that her need for him has saved Uhtred from himself. Finan doubts it will be the last.

*"

Finan's cold warrior heart warms as he watches both Uhtred and the Lady Aethelflaed greeting their daughters at Saltwick. Stiorra is her mother's wit and her father's bravery, while Aelfwynn is as carefree as a child should be. She looks a great deal like her father, but no one speaks of it. No one except the turd, Aethelred of course, who is always too happy to throw his thoughts on Aelfwynn's parentage in Aethelflaed's face. 

The demure boy in Monk's robes, a wooden sword swung over his shoulder, takes him by surprise. "I am no one," the boy says, eyes cast down. The boy reads and practices his letters, but he speaks very little, and only when spoken to. It makes Finan sad that the boy is so reserved. He watches as the wee man turns the wooden sword in his hands. When he catches Finan looking, the boy puts the sword down and picks up his book.

After the men come looking for Aelfwynn, the boy walks with Finan to the cart. "I thought they were coming to kill me," he says softly. "That happens, sometimes.” Finan does not know what to say to that, but the pieces fall into place when Uhtred shares a rather important bit of information. Aethelstan, for that is his name, is Edward's firstborn son. He has grown up in the care of the church until very recently. Both Sitric and Osferth, bastards themselves, find a kinship with the boy. But it is Finan he walks by, or rides on. The little bugger covers his eyes and holds his neck too tight, but Finan enjoys the boy's company. 

As they travel, he is pleased to see the boy doing things a child should, like chasing a frog. As Finan mockingly scolds him, the boy giggles. Finan finds the sound is good for his soul. It distracts him from the ever-present fear of the sickness. As they journey to Caester, avoiding both the sickness and the men hunting for them, he teaches Aethelstan how to build a boat and a castle. Knowing the sickness is near brings the first real fear he has felt in a long while. Even though it was a lifetime ago, he finds he can remember the putrid smell as the men around him began spewing blood in quick succession. They had all been on a hunt a few days before, and were dead within a day. They had looked as though they had been run through with a sword, so much blood surrounded them. Finan did not fall, but many others did. Helping Aethelstan construct things is a welcome distraction from those memories.

And then there is Eadith, the fiery beauty that rides with them now. Her brother is the sack of shit that Edward has betrothed Aelfwynn to, and Finan does not trust her at first. He can think only of continuing to Caester, and she derails that plan. It is her interference that leads them them on the road to the sickness. She is kind to the children though, and this softens him ever so slightly. One night, she overhears the Lady discussing religion with Uhtred, Aethelstan tucked one side and Aelfwynn on the other.  
“I would rather sleep on the cold, hard ground than in a palace," she says with measured conviction, "and be called a whore." She speaks of God and how she has not seen Him, and that warms him more. 

When Eardwulf finds them, and they nearly careen headlong into a river of the dead, she wins him over. The Lady Eadith saves them all with her quick thinking, sharing what she witnessed even as her brother calls her a whore. Her brother had murdered Aethelred. What kind of man murders a dying king? The fact that this is who Edward has chosen to be Aethelred’s successor does not speak well for the man’s judgement. As the men ride away, Eadith turns back to them and smiles. Aelfwynn runs to her. “Your mother will be safe from him,” she whispers to the girl, smoothing her hands over her flaxen hair. 

He pays closer attention to the Lady Eadith after that. Perhaps he was blinded by his fear of the sickness, because he finds she has warm, deep blue eyes that show exactly what she is thinking. When she angers or becomes winded as they run on to their destination, they shift to a hue of deep green. It's the most curious thing. Osferth shares that she has told him she has never been in the company of men for so long without feeling as if she was something to be used. Finan watches the care she gives to both Aethelstan and Aelfwynn as they make the last leg of their journey. She feigns fear as Athelstan examines Sihtric’s dagger while they walk, making Aethelstan giggle. She is kind, he thinks, and her words to Osferth show that she has been shown little kindness in return.

Finan gestures now to the dagger the boy still carries. “Don’t ye think ye should reclaim yer blade, Sihtric?” Finan asks. 

“Let him hold it awhile longer, Finan,” Sihtric says with a shrug. “Did you notice him with the wooden sword at Saltwick? It’s powerful to know you have the means to defend yourself, when you have not been able to for so long.” Finan knows that Sihtric is speaking from experience, and he wonders, not for the first time, what all his friend endured in his childhood. They reach their destination, and Sihtric reclaims the blade, ruffling the boy's hair as he does so. They rest, and then separate. 

Eadith stays with Osferth and Aelfwynn while Finan rides back to Ayelsberg with Uhtred. Aelfwynn is unwell, and he holds his cross to say a prayer before they ride. Sihtric and Young Uhtred ride to find the Lady Aethelflaed. Finan prays they will find her in time. When they ride west, Aethelstan rides in front of him. “Where are we going, now?” He asks.

“We ride for peace, wee man. It’s just something we do from time to time.” Athelstan laughs, and Finan realizes he rather likes the sound. 

**

Finan finds Athelstan sitting in Father Purlig’s little hidey hole. The boy looks up as Finan approaches, but his gaze returns to his hands, folded tidely in his lap. Even in that quick glance, Finan had not missed the sadness there. They've been in Aegelesburg for only a few days, but those days have been chaotic as Mercia seeks a new ruler.

“What’s goin’ on, wee man?” He asks, crouching down in front of Athelstan so that he can not avoid looking at Finan. 

The boy drags the edge of his shoe through the dirt on the floor, still avoiding Finan’s gaze. "He does not not want me," he finally says softly. He looks up and meets Finan's eyes. His face crumples as he says, "The Lady took me to King Edward, Finan, but he sent me away. He does not want me.”. The tears come then in earnest. 

Christ. Finan swears under his breath. He pulls the kid into his lap and hugs him while he cries. Edward, King of Wessex, is a turd. “His loss, wee man. It is his loss,” Finan murmurs gently.

When the boy calms, he wipes his face and leans away from Finan. “I should not have done that. The Lady says I must not let emotion rule.”

Horseshit, Finan thinks. “Even warriors show emotion, wee man. Do you know that when Uhtred lost someone who was like a father to him, I held him as he cried much as I did you just now? It does not make you weak. It makes you human.”

Athelstan sniffed, wiped his nose, and gave Finan the slightest hint of a smile. It would do. 

Later, he shows the boy how to make a king from twigs and a leather thong. Athelstan smiles, and spends the next two weeks crafting adventures for the king. He calls him the King of Nowhere. "What better place for a No One to live?" He asks Finan. Finan finds his heart squeezes, and he wonders if Athelstan will ever escape his scars of his origins.

**

Finan walks to the the bar to order more ale, unable to believe how quickly their lot had changed. Not a week before, he had stood at this very bar and bragged to this very wench of their role as advisors to the new Lord of Mercia. Unbeknownst to him and the men, Uhtred had been intentionally planning the shortest reign in history, all in hopes of both protecting and appeasing his lady love. Except whoopsie, the Lady Aethelflaed had sworn to remain chaste in order to secure the Witan's support of her rule. Dear King Edward, the turd, did not like being outmaneuvered, so he had raised his army and held Mercia. Then their Lord had compelled them to raise the Mercia Fyrd to come to Aegelesburg to support Aethelflaed, thereby forcing Edward to stay his hand. Except Finan hadn't even gotten to enjoy that minor adventure--he had instead been assigned to guard the Lady. An important job, certainly, but he'd been rightly bored out of his mind for days.

Raising the Mercian Fyrd had, of course, worked, as Uhtred's chess plays often did. Except now the Lady Aethelflaed is farther from him than she's ever been, and they are returning to Winchester tomorrow with even less than they had when they left, with a short detour to deliver Lady Aelswith and the wee man Aethelstan to Bedwyn. The thought of leaving the boy does nothing to better his already sour mood. Uhtred, who rarely drinks a great deal, is in his cups, further disheartened by the news that Young Uhtred has returned to his church in Winchester, without having even said goodbye. Finan will follow Uhtred anywhere, but just now he can't believe he's buggered them from riches to rags in a matter of days, without even asking his men their opinion in these matters.

The bar wench mocks him when he approaches. "Royal advisor?"

He sets the jug down with more force than required. He's simply had enough. "Another jug of your strongest ale," he says. 

Suddenly Eadith is beside him, a little too close for proper company. Lucky for them all, Finan is far from proper company. She lays silver next to his jug. Those deep blue-green eyes meet his. She's a full head shorter than him, but she seems to rise and fill the space around her. She looks all business as she says, "I will pay for your ale. And when you leave Aegelesburg, you might allow me to travel with you. For safe passage."

Finally, Finan thinks, something good. "Better make he two," he tells the bar wench, then turns to face her. For her part, she does not give an inch as the already small space between them diminishes even more. "I thought you hoped to stay with the Lady Aelfwynn?"

She huffed and looked up to the ceiling, and he sees the first chink in her bravado. "It seems the Lady of Mercia is in no hurry to keep her husband's mistress and the sister of his murderer under her roof." She blinks, and more of the veneer falls away. Finan sees the pain in those eyes. He knows she cares for the wee Aelfwynn, and that she has been used by many. The Lady huffs and stomps her foot. It is both petulant and endearing, and he feels the edge of his mouth lift into a half smile despite his previous decision to appear menacing. "She tried to make me a nun," Eadith says with a snort. "Of all things, a nun. Me? I suspect even they wouldn't want me."

Finan laughs, but only because he knows she needs the lighter mood. He's noticing a theme with Eadith, and it makes him think a little bit of Aethelstan, lost and alone and unsure of who he is. So he uses the same strategy as he did with the boy. "Their loss," he says, and hands her a cup when the wench brings the two jugs of ale. 

"Come, drink with us. Did ye know Stiorra was kicked out of the nunnary a few years ago?" He pours ale into her mug so he's less likely to slosh it, and then walks with her towards the others. 

Eadith sips, then chuckles as she follows him.

"Ye see," he begins, always loving a story, "King Alfred sent Lord Uhtred's children to be educated by the church after there was, ahem, a disagreement. Young Uhtred, as ye have seen, took to the cloth like it was made for him."

They are close enough now that Uhtred knows what they are talking about. "Much to my dismay," Uhtred says, raising his cup in greeting to Eadith and then holding it out for Finan to refill. 

"Now Stiorra, on the other 'and" Finan continued, moving down the table to refill Osferth's mug. "The nuns had finally had enough and called on Uhtred to come get her after...what was yer final act to get ousted again, Stiorra?"

Uhtred's capricious daughter raises her mug for Finan to refill. "Do not give her more ale, Finan, she's but a child," Uhtred scolds.

Stiorra pulls the jug from Finan and pours more for herself, eyeing her father defiantly, than passes the jug to Sihtric. "I am not a child, Father," she said with a half hearted snarl. "Sit with us Eadith, and I will tell you of the goat I sacrificed, and all the 'heathen acts' that came before." Eadith laughs and sits as the others shift to make room for her. "It was quite fun to make the holy ladies sweat," Stiorra says with a laugh. 

Finan could hug the girl as Eadith leans in to hear the tale, her sadness over being pushed away forgotten. The next road if their journey has gotten a fair bit more interesting, thank the Good Lord. He is surprised how much he wants to make Eadith feel as if she belongs.


	2. Love has been poured into our hearts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Lady Eadith travels with Uhtred, his men, the Lady Aelswith, Father Purlig and the Aethelstan on the Road to Bedwyn. Things do not go as planned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this happened?
> 
> Here in lies Eadith x Finan flirtation  
> But also Aethelstan  
> And the Coccham squad being themselves. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy...this section is really all about the relationships that make this show so enjoyable.

They leave for Bedwyn at first light. After hours of ale and stories, Eadith had bunked with Stiorra. She had smiled and laughed with them, listening to the stories told by Osferth, Sihtric and Stiorra. Uhtred had listened and occasionally chimed in, his mind elsewhere. Finan simply let himself watch her with his friends, unabashed and unapologetic. He found he very much enjoyed her company when there was not men hunting them, a child in their care waining, or a blood-spewing sickness to avoid. They saddled the horses, packed their meager belongings and headed for the gates, where they would be met by the Lady Aelswith, Aethelstan, and the priest.

Aethelstan is riding with Father Purlig when they arrive, but quickly slides down and runs to Finan when he sees them. He turns his face up to Finan, eyes shining expectantly. Finan sighs and reaches down to pull the boy into the saddle. "We ride together again, wee man." The boy settles against him. Finan isn't sure, but he thinks he hears Eadith chuckle at them. 

Uhtred takes the lead. Lady Aethelflaed stands at the ramparts, watching their departure. Uhtred looks up at her one last time, then spurs his stallion into an easy canter. For a while, Uhtred rides as if the Devil is on his tail. Finan and Sihtric follow, but at a much easier pace, with the rest of their party. 

Once Uhtred has outrun his demons, he returns to the head of their riding party. Sihtric drops back with Osferth to watch the rear, and to Finan's delight Eadith rides alongside. For a while, their silence is companionable. Finan watches Eadith from the corner of his eye as she occasionally turns her face up to the sun or looks off at the rolling hills, smiling. She seems to be positively radiant--riding suits her. Her richly colored cloak flows out behind her, her hood down and her fiery hair reflecting rays of sunlight. She occasionally pats the white mare she rides, murmuring to her. The mare turns her ears, listening.

"I'd say," he says to Aethelstan conspiratorially, "that the Lady Eadith has made a friend."

“It’s always a good idea,” she says, turning to Aethelstan with a raised eyebrow, “to be friendly to beasts who are bigger than you and can smash you under their feet.”

“Uhtred ‘as always said that your horse is more likely to carry you into battle if you let it know you are a friend,” Finan says, ruffling Aethelstan’s hair. “For no horse will go into battle willingly, otherwise. They are too sensible a creature.”

“Will I learn to ride on my own, do you think, Finan?” Aethelstan asked, trying to turn enough to look up at him.

“Aye, as a man should. However, we’ll have to find a horse that fits you.” He chuckles. “Wee horse for a wee man.” He remembers Uhtred doing something similar, except for a much-grown young Uhtred. He tells Aethelstan the tale. “Lord Uhtred had not seen his son in a long while,” he said, “so he took him a wee horse. Except in the time he’d been away, Young Uhtred had grown into the man ye met at Saltwick. Had he ridden the wee horse, his feet would drag on the ground.” Aethelstan laughed. “Such a wee horse would work fine for you though.”

Eadith smiled over at them. “I learned to ride on this little roan pony named Pumpernickel. She was sweet but if she wanted hay, she would run for the barn with much haste. I fell off her so many times, my father threatened to feed her to the dogs.”

“What happened to her?” Aethelstan asked, curious. 

Eadith’s smile fell. “She grew fat and we kept her on. I’d hoped someday my own children would learn to ride on her, but she was lost along with everything we owned in my father’s fall from grace.” She turned and stared off into the hills. Finan felt that tightening in his chest that had been making itself known often of late, between Eadith and the wee man. 

Aethelstan was quiet for a moment. “So you are a Lady of Nowhere, now?”

“Well, yes, I suppose I am. I was of Mercia, but no more.” She sounded so sad, still peering off to the trees.

The boy turned to her, “I am sorry for you Lady, but I am glad to have company,” his voice, too, is soft and sad. He sighs and focuses his gaze back between the horses ears, one hand toying in the gelding’s dark mane.

Her head snaps around, blue-green eyes wide and concerned, glassy with unshed tears. “Oh,” she says softly, and looks from Aethelstan to Finan. She shakes her head slightly, as if she is searching for words.

Finan swallows and decides on levity. "Speaking of the people of Nowhere, Where's the King of the land?" Finan asks the boy, hoping to change the subject and lighten the mood. 

Aethelstan shrugs. "I left him with Aelfwynn, to protect her should anyone come after her again."

Finan smiles. "A worthy job for a worthy king, to be sure. A lady needs protecting."

"Besides, the Lady Aelswith says playing with dolls is not for me. That I am too old."

Finan makes a sound of disgust. "Of course the Lady would not want you to act as a child should."

They rode in silence for a long while after that. 

**  
The Lady Aelswith calls a halt for lunch. Father Purlig spreads a selection of breads and fruits out before the former queen. “Aethelstan, come sit with me. Father Purlig will share some of the times he has seen God while we eat.”

Uhtred sighs audibly. “We should not dwell too long, Lady. It’s best to keep moving. We can be at Bedwyn by nightfall tomorrow.”

“There is always time for a meal and reflection, Lord Uhtred,” she says. 

Eadith looks at Finan, still not quite herself. “Walk with me?” she asks. 

Finan nods. Sihtric jumps up too. “I could stand to stretch my legs. Osferth, keep our Lord and the Lady company.” Sihtric tosses Eadith and Finan an apple and they walk. 

“I had not realized . . .” Eadith begins when they are out of earshot of the rest of the party. 

“That the wee lad was brought up with nothing?” Finan prompts.

“Or that the Lady has deprived him of even a mother’s love?” Sihtric said, and there was an undercurrent of anger in his voice. 

“Both, I suppose. Such sadness, Finan, when we were riding earlier.” Finan can only nod.

“She did much the same to Osferth, you know,” Sihtric said suddenly.

Finan stopped and looked at him in surprise. This was news to him. “Bonding among bastards?”

“You’re a right bastard, too, Finan, maybe not by birth but by attitude. Don’t act as if you aren’t for the Lady.”

As they walked on, Finan chuckled and Eadith made a snort of derision. “We really must stop calling me that,” she said. “I have no land, no home, no honor. I am not certain what I am, but it seems I am a lady no longer.” 

Finan looks at her, objections bubbling, and just shakes his head. “Eadith . . . “ He begins, not knowing what to say. His hands twitch, and he feels the overwhelming urge to reach for her. He does not.

“So what is it that the Lady Aelswith did to Osferth, Sihtric?” Eadith asked, loudly, clearly changing the subject. 

“Osferth is the bastard son of King Alfred,” Finan began, fairly certain she did not know this. 

“Oh?” Said Eadith. 

“Oh,” Sihtric said with a laugh. “His uncle, Leofric, was a great warrior who fought for Alfred. He and Lord Uhtred became great friends. He died before I came to serve. While he was alive, Leofric protected his sister, Osferth’s mother. She had been one of Alfred’s maids. He had many, it is rumored, and his bastards are scattered throughout Winchester.” Finan sighed, not one for this gossip. “Without Leofrick to protect her though, Aelswith--she was the queen then, remember--stripped Osferth from her. She exiled his mother to a nunnery in the north, and installed Osferth in another house of the cloth near Winchester. But Osferth was old enough to remember, and as soon as he was able, he came to serve Uhtred.”

“Baby monk,” Finan chuckled.

"Did he ever look for her?" Eadith asks. "His mother?"

Sihtric nods, which is again news to Finan. "When last we were in the north, he made inquiries. She was killed by a Danish raiding party many years ago."

“Oh, how sad for Osferth," she said softly. " And Aethelstan, too, was raised by the church?” Eadith clarified. 

“Aye,” said Finan. “Uhtred said he was installed there as an infant.”

“He’s never known his mother’s love,” Sihtric said again, sad and far away. “My childhood was absolute shit, but at least I had my mother, for a time. I carry her with me still. I don’t know what would have become of me if I did not.”

Finan playfully slapped him on the shoulder. “You’d be a meaner bastard, that’s for certain.”

“What are we to do?” Eadith asks, stopping to put her hand on Finan’s arm. “Regarding Aethelstan?” 

Finan has never been one to lose himself under a woman’s touch, but her soft fingers toyed with the cuff of his shirt, her fingers on his bare skin making him catch his breath. He wants to reach out and touch her richly colored cloak, touch her.

"There's nothin' we can do, Eadith," he says solumnly holding her beautiful eyes with his own. She steps into him, and she is very close, tilting her face up to him. He swallows, mixed with emotions he can not name. That feeling in his chest is there again. "He will go to Bedwyn with the Lady Aelswith. We can make him feel cared for while he is with us."

Sihtric nods. "It's all we can do, and hope she teaches him to ride and fight. Her judgement in these things is not always the best."

Eadith blinks up at Finan again, the nods and step back. He immediately misses her presence in his space. They turn and start walking back toward the others. They've been gone long enough. Hopefully the others will be ready to ride.

"I swear, Sihtric," Finan jokes, needing to lighten the mood. "This is more than I've heard ye talk in years."

Eadith laughs. "The Lady is a much better listener than your ugly mug, Finan," Sihtric says.

"I'll be telling yer wife you said that," Finan says, gleefully.

"It will not be news to her, Finan." Sihtric rebuked. "She's already well aware that you are ugly."

Eadith's laughter rings through the forest, their worries momentarily forgotten.

**

Aethelstan rides with Eadith for the next leg of the journey. Uhtred leads, with Father Purlig at his side. They discuss in hushed tones. The Lady Aelswith rides behind them, with Finan, Aethelstan and Eadith next. The rest of Uhtred's men take the rear, taking shifts to circle back and check for riders.

Eadith alternates between long stretches of silence and prattling on to the boy about anything and everything. She talks of the dog she owned as a child, the first time she saw Aelyseberg, and the first time she traveled to the coast. She asks Aethelstan about his favorite food--he doesn't have one, and his favorite animal--he doesn't have one. She asks him about his favorite things at Saltwick, and that finally gets him talking. He speaks of playing games with Aelfwynn, and names all of things she has taught him about birds. Finan just rides and listens, enjoying the banter between the two. Eadith rides easily one hand on the reins, the other wrapped around the wee man’s rather slight middle. She occasionally rests her cheek on top of his, and when she does, it’s Finan’s eyes she meets. He feels that clench in his chest again. 

**  
His Lord’s face, when Lady Aelswith calls them to a halt in the late afternoon, is quite laughable. “Lady,” he argues, looking confused, “we have many miles to cover and there is a great deal of light left.”

“I understand, Lord Uhtred, but we must have light by which to build a camp.”

Uhtred’s eyes grow wide. “A camp?” They do not camp during a two day ride. They stop at dusk, find a place, lay on the ground, and sleep as much as they can before first light. 

“Yes, a camp,” Aelswith says as if he might have lost his senses. “We can not sleep on the ground.”

“We can!” Uhtred says. 

“Well, perhaps your kind,” she says, “but we will take time to pray and prepare a place to sleep.”

Uhtred sighs, resigned. 

“You there,” she calls to Eadith, “you take the young lady and go collect some kindling for the fire.”

Stiorra, the “young lady,” huffs, dismounting with a graceful leap. “Of course, Lady Aelswith,”she says, bowing deeply. Uhtred groans, but the slight is completely missed by the former Queen of Wessex. 

Uhtred looks around. “Fine,” he said, pointing to a clearing to the left. “We’ll camp there, at the back of the clearing and away from the road.”

Finan swung down from his horse and went to pull Aethelstan down. His arm rested for a moment on Eadiths knee and she looked down at him, eyes wide. He pulled it back quickly, as if burned. “Come now, wee man, ye can help me chop some trees.” 

“Can I hold the axe?” Aethelstan asked.

“Most certainly not!” Cried Aelswith. Finan just winked at him. 

**

They've been working for some time, cutting wood and preparing the timber. It's a great deal of work for only a few men and a single night. Father Purlig is stacking wood for a fire, grumbling that he will not be the one to cook. Sihtric and Finan have tied the pole for a tent for the Lady Aelswith. After deliberation with Uhtred and dictation by the Lady, it was decided she would require a single tent for her and Aethelstan to share. In the interest of time, everyone else was perfectly happy to sleep on the ground. Aethelstan trails happily behind Finan and Sihtric, helping when they ask for it. The Lady Aelswith, thankfully, is currently otherwise occupied talking to Lord Uhtred. Finan feels badly for his Lord, but it's much better Uhtred suffer than the rest of them at the moment.

Uhtred called Father Purlig over to give him flint so he can light the fire. Aethelstan sits in front of it, watching the flames. "Have you used flint before, wee man?" Finan inquires as he secures the top pole for the Lady's sleeping arrangements. 

"No," Aethelstan said. "There was never a need to."

"It's always good to know how to make a fire," Finan says. "Fire can mean warmth and survival."

"Or escape," Sihtric chimed in, "Especially if you are with Lord Uhtred."

Finan chuckled. " 'E does prefer to light things up, doesn't 'e? I will show you how, when we are finished here. Every man should know."

Aethelstan smiled up at him. Finan hears rustling, and looks up to see Eadith and Stiorra appearing, arms filled with kindling for the fire. Stiorra looked ready to stab someone with that dagger of hers. Eadith looks exasperated, her hair delightfully mussed. Finan moves to go beside her, leaning against a tree.

The Lady Aelswith watches them dump their wood into a pile. "That will not be enough," she says. "I feel the cold. Please go and cut some more." Stiorra huffs and stomps off to help her father. 

“Of course, Lady,” Eadith says, rolling her eyes as she turns to gather more. 

"It’s her way of showing she likes 'ye," Finan says, bending a little at the waste to catch Eadith’s eyes. After all, she has been nagging Uhtred, and she seemed to be very pleased with him. Eadith grins at him and laughs, her eyes sparkling. Finan's chest does that feeling again and he chuckles with her. He can't resist the urge to reach out and let his fingers trail through her cloak as she heads back into the forest. He sighs and turns to lean against the tree again, watching her go. He is in trouble. He knows she has been used before, and hurt, and he doesn't want to spook her. But he wants her. He wants her to feel she belongs yes, but he also wants her to be his. Aye, he's in trouble, all right.

He takes a breath to steady himself, and then goes and sits beside Aethelstan. "Maybe we should try the flint now, what do you think?"

The boy smiles and nods. 

"Father Purlig gave it back to Lord Uhtred,” Finan says with a gesture towards where Uhtred and Stiorra are bent over a felled sapling. Half way between Finan and Uhtred stands the Lady Aelswith. “Why don't you go get it." Aethelstan jumps up and runs over to Uhtred, who has stood to watch two Danes pass on the road. 

Sihtric throws a branch at him. "And you are just going to let me do this myself while you give fire-starting lessons?". He jeers.

Osferth is walking back from where he had been grooming the horses, so Finan chucks the stick back at Sihtric. "No, Sihtric, but Osferth is done with the horses and he's better at lashing than me."

"That is true," Osferth says, "Any tent put up by Finan may blow down in a good wind." Sihtric laughs and together he and Osferth join Finan around the fire. They have been working for hours and the break is welcome.

Suddenly, there was a shift in the air. A horse nickers, the birds nearby squak as if disturbed. Finan is up, drawing his blade, but everything happens quickly. "Lord!" He looks and sees that Aethelstan is with the Lady Aelswith, and they are quickly backing toward Uhtred and Stiorra. The Danes come from all directions, surrounding them, and Finan can no longer see the others. Finan finds himself in a circle with Osferth, Sihtric, and Father Purlig as they do their best to cover each other as the Danes push in on them. Where is Eadith? Has she been caught by them, or worse? 

"Looks like an ambush," Osferth says, sounding breathless.

"It most definitely is an ambush," Father Purlig points out from Finan's back. Finan knows their chances in a fight are not good. They are outnumbered at least five to one, just from what he can see. If they fight, they will die. It is only a question of how many they will take with them. He holds his sword in a guard position, the other hand out to keep a measure of Sihtric’s position. If he’d had a free hand, Finan would have found the cross at his neck and said a prayer for Eadith to be safe and stay hidden. He hoped she had the good sense to run and not try to do anything brave. Bravery would mean death. 

Uhtred has not answered, and the Danes are pressing in. He calls again. “Lord, what do we do?” The situation is growing volatile. Finan feels as if the raiders before him could snap at any moment. He can see a rider on horseback, probably talking to Uhtred. Finan thinks it could be Haesten. The Danes push in again.

**

Eadith is still smiling as she adds wood to her growing stack. Finan is an interesting and unique man. He should be terrifying, between his height and width. Yet he goes out of his way to keep situations light and provide opportunities for laughter when they are needed. And the way he looks at her… she is becoming increasingly confused by the way he looks at her. Sometimes, the look on his face is one that is familiar to her, one that she's known since she turned 14. It's a look of want. The older she got, the less time seemed to pass between that look and the demand that she give in to the want. The demand always came though, sometimes in weeks, and sometimes in hours. 

With the Eldorman who held her father's lands, it had taken a fortnight for him to make his claim-her in his bed in exchange for grace on monies owed by her father. He had refused, at first, and it had been the beginning of the end for their family. Eventually he acquiessed, but the financial damage could not be undone. Now that she is older, sometimes men demanded her compliance within minutes of meeting. When she rebuked them, they called her a whore. Her history with men had only one thing in common… Encounters always ended in pain or humiliation, sometimes both.

Yet here was Finan, who looked at her with want in his eyes, yet pulled his hand away, as if she herself had the sickness, when he had touched her helping down the boy. Sometimes he looked at her in a different way, a way she had never seen before, but that made her belly go warm. Then there was the way he looked at Aethelstan. It could only be described as soft. She shouldn't be able to describe this warrior, with his huge frame and muscled arms, covered in scars, as soft, yet with Aethelstan there was so much care in everything he did.

Finan was unique, and yet perfectly matched with the men in Lord Uhtred's company. Each of them were warriors, yes, but also colorful and compassionate. They spoke of want of silver, yet she doubted that they would ever act dishonorably to attain it. They treated her as an equal, and didn't seem to want anything from her. Perhaps it was because the man they served loved a warrior who was once a princess, and now a queen. Perhaps it was simply because they were good men. Before this strange turn of events that happened after she had helped Aethelflaed out the window of her confinement room, she would have said that good men no longer existed. Yet there was her man, Aldhelm. There was Uhtred, Sihtric, Osferth, and even the colorful Father Purlig. There was Finan, who made her laugh and feel things she shouldn't. They made her feel safe, and for the first time since her father asked her to lie with the Eldorman who would later ruin him, she felt she belonged. 

She is bending for another piece of wood when she hears Finan call, "Lord!" She drops the wood, for his voice, even from so far, does not carry the carefree tone she is used to. She looks around, finds herself alone, and runs as quietly back to camp as she can. 

Danes, and a lot of them. She hides behind a tree, pulling her hood up over the red hair that would give her away in the earthen tones of the forest. She can see Uhtred, Stiorra, and the Lady Aelswith. From the way she is standing, arms crossed unseen in front of her, it seems likely she has Aethelstan with her. She looks toward the fire, where last she saw Finan and the others, but can see nothing but a sea of Danes. 

She watches, horrified, as the big ugly Dane in charge gestures and the Lady, Aethelstan and Stiorra are taken to the cart. Even from here, she can make out the panic in Uhtred's eyes. The ugly one gestures more, and sends the cart on its way with most of the men surrounding Uhtred. Eadith watches as one of them binds Uhtred's hands. She doesn't need to hear to know what is being said. The circle of Danes is still tight around the edge of camp where she last saw Finan. If Uhtred resists, his men will die.

They hang Uhtred from a tree, upside down. At first, she things they mean to hang him right side up, and she thinks she is going to vomit. She nearly cries out in relief when she understands what they are doing. The ugly one puts a blade to Uhtred's throat, and the circle opens, allowing the others to see. Finan, Osferth, Sihtric and Father Purlig drop their weapons and do as they are told. They join Uhtred in the tree, and the ugly one talks, and talks, and talks. Eadith wonders if he means to kill Uhtred and his men just by talking to them. The ugly one sends all but two men on, taking all of the horses with them. Still he stays, and still he talks. She has no choice but to wait. The only way she can help the men is if she draws one anyway and then a second goes to investigate. The plan does not work with three. With three, Uhtred and his men will be bleeding from slits in their throats. So she waits.

**

The sun is lowering to rest when the ugly one finally leaves. She waits until she is sure he is gone and the men left behind are growing board and hungry. She takes a breath and looks at the men she has come to know one last time. For them, she can do this. 

She runs deeper into the woods. The one who comes for her must not be seen when he falls. She screams, and then lays on the ground to wait. Blood hammers in her ears and she tries to keep her breathing steady. She hears footsteps, and she carefully readies her dagger. She stands and looks helpless, reaches for the Dane before her, caressing his face. He looks confused as she plunges the dagger in his throat. She feels a wave of nausea from the slick sliding sound. When she pulls the dagger out, her hand is soaked with blood. 

She runs again, getting as close to camp as she dares. The second Dane becomes restless after a short while. He calls for his companion, and eventually heads into the woods in the same direction. Eadith runs. 

**

Once she's cut them down, they run until well after dark. Uhtred sends Father Purlig to tell King Edward what has happened. She runs, following them blindly and recognizes that she must slow them down, but they do not leave her behind.

Uhtred finally calls a halt, sending Osferth to find food while he and Sihtric begin a fire. Finan's job, apparently, is to check on her. "Come on," he says, "let's get ye cleaned up."

Only then does she look down at her hands. They are sticky, and in the dark of night, look to be covered in black. "Oh," she says softly. She begins to shake.

"Have ye ever killed a man before Eadith?" He asks gently, guiding her into the woods. The moon is full, providing enough light to guide them. She can only shake her head.

"The first time is always the hardest. I think Osferth probably remembers it best, of all of us. He killed his first man when we rescued Lady Aethelflaed from the Danes. That was maybe six, seven winter's ago. The rest of is 'ave been killin' men as long as we remember."

They've come to a stream. He bends down and washes his hands, as if reminding her of what she needs to do. "How did you know this was here?" She asks, pleased to have found her voice.

"We have traveled the road between Winchester and Saltwick often over the years. We often stop here to rest the horses and refresh the water."

"Winchester?" She asks, not completely understanding. 

"Aye," he says. He leans over and scrubs at the worst spots on her hands for her. "Haeston says the Danes have taken Winchester. That's where they took them--Stiorra, Aelswith and Aethelstan."

"Haeston?" She asks. 

"The ugly one in charge," Finan says. 

And God help her, she laughed. 

**

When they return, the fire is blazing and by some miracle, a rabbit is roasting on a spit. Osferth has also successfully gathered some berries and other items. It is far from a feast, but it will do.

"Thank you," Sihtric says softly when they return, "for helping us."

She sits across the fire from him. She notices Finan flanks his left, Osferth his right. Uhtred steps in closer. Sihtric had been unconscious when she had cut him down. 

She doesn't know what to say. The air feels heavy. 

"My father was a cruel man," Sihtric says. "When his slaves disobeyed him, he sometimes liked to hang them upside down. Sometimes he would spare them. Sometimes he would slit their throat."

Eadith swallows, feeling unable to breath. She looks at Sihtric's eyes, nearly black in the light of the camp fire. Finan claps a hand on the narrower man's shoulder. Uhtred takes another step closer. Support, she notes. The worst is yet to come.

When I was about Aethelstan's age, my mother offended my father."

"Oh, Sihtric," she breathed, understanding. She feels tears flood to her eyes.

"He hung her as I was hung today, and when she could no longer stay awake, he slit her throat. He left her there for days as a reminder that he can not be denied anything he seeks. Of the ways to leave this world, it is the one I fear the most. So I thank you, Lady Eadith."

She blinks back tears, nodding. There is no joke for Finan to lighten the mood. It would fall flat anyway. Lord Uhtred announces the rabbit is done. They eat their small share in silence. Eadith spends her time wondering if the world was ever kind to any of the men around the fire.

When they are finished, they debate if they should sleep or continue. They do not get anywhere. Lord Uhtred was again lobbying for them to continue when Finan jumped up, hand on his sword. "Lord," he said in warning. 

Eadith, who had her back to the road, was up and behind the men in an instant. She'd had enough for one day. Four men on horseback, each leading a pack horse, came into view. 

"Finan," she hissed, stepping in close behind him, "the horses. I still have my silver."

Finan looked at her, eyes widening. "Are you sure?" Not are you sure she had it, but was she sure she wanted to use it. Never had a man asked her such a thing. She could have kissed him. Instead, she deposits the fat purse of coin the Lady Aethelflaed had given her into his hand. The sooner they arrived in Winchester, the sooner they could help the others. 

Finan sidles over to Uhtred, whispers in his year and hands him the purse. "Alright then," he says, and hails the travelers.

They ride to Winchester through the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing Eadith was refreshing but also sad...  
> It's been so fun to fill like little details here. Hopefully they resonate. 
> 
> Also, I needed our heroes to secure horses to Winchester bc running the whole way seemed silly. 😂. Hope you enjoyed!


	3. For by grace you have been saved

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eadith ventures into the walls of Winchester.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo this chapter got out of hand. It's over 8k. I'm both sorry and not. 
> 
> Thank you all for your kind comments....so glad that you are enjoying!

It is first light when they arrive outside Winchester. Finan takes in the changes-heads and Danish omens decorate the ramparts. There are men everywhere. Finan reassures his Lord of Stiorra’s safety. It doesn’t look good though. He hadn’t wanted to believe Haeston’s word--the man is a liar, after all. But he had spoken the truth. Winchester had fallen to the Danes.

They speak of strategies and options, and there are few. They come up with a plan, and Finan does not like it. Everything in him wants to argue against it--sending Eadith into a Danish-held Winchester makes his stomach turn. But Sihtric is right--they are all known here. She is the only one that can go in safely. He admires that she has volunteered herself, and knows that the reasoning is sound. He leans his chin on his hand, resting on the axe she had taken from the man she had killed, and watches her. She sits, determination flaming in her blue-green eyes, and it seems like she’s daring him to argue. “We’ll get ye provisions,” he says softly. “Ye can’t go in empty handed.”

He removes his rings, takes a few of Sihtric’s arm bands and a silver cross Osferth keeps sewn into his robes for just such an emergency. He leaves Uhtred with the others to discuss strategy and give Eadith instructions. He walks along the trail of farmers bringing provisions into the walls of Winchester until he is far beyond the eyes of the men guarding the ramparts. He buys fruits, bread, and smoked meat. He trades one of his rings for a group of silver bracelets that would allow Eadith to wear some extra silver for bargaining. He does not like this plan one bit, but the least he can do is make sure she goes in prepared. In a siege, silver will get you a great deal. His last purchase is a large basket to carry the provisions in. He makes his way back to where the others are hiding, and finds the clenching in his chest grows as he nears.

Finan is a warrior and a fighter. He was a fighter long before Sverri. He understood calculated risk, and logically he knew that this plan made sense. He would not argue it, would not ask her not to go. But he wanted to, and that confused him. Aethelstan and Stiorra were within, along with countless friends who worked and lived in Winchester. They needed reassurance that they had not been abandoned. However, there were no guarantees in a siege. Once Eadith went inside, her fate would be unknown to them until everything ended.

He could not protect her, or speak to her, or even know if she was alive once she went in. Yet he understood that she must do it, that he must let her do it. She is her own woman, with her own mind, and this is what she chooses. He is silent as he approaches. Uhtred is instructing her on where to go, what to avoid. He tells her of Haesten, certain that he is within. Finan hands her the bracelets. She looks at him in confusion. “Silver,” he says, and his voice sounds brusk to his own ears, “should you need it.” She nods. Lord Uhtred explains to her the value of making a bargain should she need to--that the silver can save her life. Finan hands her the basket, puts the food in it, covers it with a cloth the woman who sold him the apples gave him. He leans against a tree and listens as Uhtred finishes his rather lengthy list of dos and don’ts. Sihtric places a hand on her shoulder, tells her to be safe. He tells her the name of a woman at the whore house she can go to for help. He does not tell her his wife used to work with the woman. Osferth clasps her hand and prays with her--for her. Finan grits his teeth. Uhtred gives her a message for Stiorra.

She stands before Finan, her last stop before heading to the gates. He crosses his arms, lest he reach for her. “Ye don’t have to do this,” he says again, and hopes it doesn’t sound like what it is--a plea. He looks into those eyes, and wishes she weren’t so brave and stubborn.

“But I will,” she says again. She pulls the hood of her cloak over her fiery hair.

Finan swallows against the lump in his throat. What can he say that won’t scare her or distract her from the task at hand? She takes a deep breath and steps into his space. He knits his eyebrows together as she puts a hand on his crossed arms. And then she leans up and kisses him on the cheek. “Until we meet again, Finan.”

He flips his wrist and gently grabs her hand. He flips it over, palm facing up, and slides his thumb over the inside of her wrist, softly. “Tell the wee man, if you see him and can do it safely, that even warriors feel afraid. It does not make him less of a man.”

She blinks at him and nods. And then she is gone, pulling her hand from his. He feels bereft without it.

**

From the moment Eadith enters the gates of Winchester, nothing goes according to plan. She has walked toward the palace, as Uhtred has instructed, to take note of the guards and make plans for accessing the places that the Lady Aelswith, Stiorra, and Aethlstan are most likely to be kept. It’s then that she sees him, sitting at the ale house across the square. Eardwulf sits, looking dirty and disheveled. As she watches, he empties his cup and then saunters across the square into the palace.

The world tilts. Eardwulf isn’t just here, he is with the Danes. He had known Edward was in Mercia with his army, and the treacherous fool must have shared that information. Worse, he knows that Stiorra is Uhtred’s daughter. Uhtred and his men had held out hope for Stiorra’s safety based on the idea that no one would know she is the daughter of Uhtred the Dane-slayer. Eardwulf’s presence here makes that highly unlikely. She also can not enter the palace with Eardwulf lurking around. After betraying him to the Mercian guard, he will certainly slaughter her the next time he lays eyes on her. She turns and looks at the path that brought her here. She could turn around and leave. She does not think that they will stop her. But then what will become of Aethelstan and Lady Aelswith? If she leaves, then what? Does she tell Uhtred that her brother is within, and that his daughter is most certainly dead? She thinks of how quickly the Lady Aethelflaed has cast her aside, simply for being the brother of the man who murdered her husband. The Lady Aethelflaed hasn’t even liked her husband. Lord Uhtred, on the other hand, is quite fond of his daughter. She could not return with only bad news. She turns and follows the road that Sihtric has told her will take her to the whore house, where she can seek food and lodging. She has barely made it down the street when she hears a disturbance behind her. She turns and watches as two burly Danes haul Eardulf into the street. She makes the mistake of going back to see what is amiss. She should have kept walking. She has seen many men die before, but none of them have been her brother.

**

The weeks drag on and nothing changes. Finan is beginning to think he will lose his mind soon. King Edward, who is proving to still be a turd, is making rash decision after rash decision. The stench from the dead men, decaying in the noon-day sun along the walls of Winchester, hangs thick in the air. Finan can not abide by the waste of good men, yet King Edward keeps sending his on folly after folly.

There is no word of Stiorra nor Aethelstan, and no way to know what has happened to Eadith. His hand finds the cross at his neck and he rubs it. As soon as Edward arrived, just after Eadith had entered the city, the gates had been closed. Time has crawled by since, punctuated by Edward's failed attempts and the stack of corpses growing steadily larger.

Nothing happens but futile attempts and death, until something does. An offer is made. The King may have an heir, the Dane who has come from Irland says, but he must choose. Finan watches the king's indecision from the front line. He looks at wee Aethelstan, who is on Sigtrygger's right, and an even smaller wee lad on the lanky Dane's left. King Edward listens to the Dane’s ultimatum, then turns and leaves. Finan watches him in disbelief. He growls.

"The King is shitting himself," Sihtric says calmly, staying Finan with a hand on his arm. "No man could make that choice."

"What if 'e asks for the legitimate heir," Finan snaps. "What then of Aethelstan?"

Edward can not decide, so Lord Uhtred does what Lord Uhtred does, and makes things happen. He gives himself in place of the boys. His Lord is still convinced Sitrygger wants to negotiate. Finan simply hopes that his Lord will not join the stack of Saxon dead that may lie within the walls. (But not Eadith, please not Eadith.) When the Dane agrees, the boys both run.

Aethelstan out-distances the younger boy and makes it to King Edward first. He hugs them both close for quite some time. Lord Uhtred has been taken, but the boys are free. More, Uhtred will soon learn Stiorra's fate. Finan finds the cross again and prays for the tough little lady's safety and gives thanks that Aethelstan, at least, is safe.

Soon King Edward is looking around awkwardly. If Finan were to venture a guess, he would say the King has not spent much time with the son who shares the castle with him. He doesn't seem to know what to do with them, now that the hugging is done and there is no one standing by to take them away.

Father Pyrlig appears as Finan, Osferth, and Sitrich approach. He raises an eyebrow to Finan. "Lord King, would you like me to take the boys?"

King Edward looks relieved. He hugs the boys once more. "Go with Father Pyrlig," he says. "He will see you are safe."

Once the King has disappeared into his tent, Aethelstan runs to Pyrlig and hugs him. "I thank the Lord you are safe, child. That you are both safe," he says, not wanting the younger boy to feel left out.

"Amen to that, Father," Finan drawls as they near, crossing himself. Aethelstan's face lights up when he sees them. The wee man who is usually quiet as a mouse actually yells Finan's name and launches himself at the warrior. Finan stoops and envelops him a hug. "Thank God, Aethelstan," he murmurs, and his chest squeezes again. This boy of noble blood has become far too important to him. He sticks his face in Aethelstan's dark hair, expecting the sweet child smell he'd had at Saltwick, all innocence and outdoors. Finan immediately regretted his choice. "Ooch, but ya stink, wee man. Did they not let you bathe this entire time?"

"No Finan, we spent the entire time in the chapel. My Grandfather is kept there in stone. There was a bucket and nothing more."

Osferth squeezes the boy's shoulder. "There's a creek behind camp," Osferth tells him. "Let us go get you clean." Osferth made an "oof" as Aethelstan hugged him too.

"The Lady Aelswith, the Danes, they all said you were dead. All of you," Aethelstan says when he lets go of Osferth. "I am glad to see they are wrong."

Sihtric is standing off to the side, Finan notes, his hand on Thor's hammer. He, too, is giving thanks to his gods, but doesn't feel he belongs in this, the Pagan at a Christian reunion. Damn fool, Finan thinks. Aethelstan rectifies the problem by throwing himself at Sihtric next.

Finan smiles for the first time in what feels like forever as Sihtric looks down in surprise. "Do you ever wonder why your gods made you so foolish, Sihtric?"

Sihtric grins as he holds Aethelstan close. "Surely so I would be able to tolerate a friend like you."

Finan laughs, and it feels good.

The smaller boy stands by Father Pyrlig, eyes wide and forlorn. He knows no one, Finan realizes.

"This is Aelfweard," Aethelstan says softly, motioning the younger boy forward. "Aelfweard, these are my friends, Finan, Osferth, and Sihtric." He gestures to each of them in turn. "They are warriors."

"Friends?" the boy said in a childish, questioning voice.

"By the Gods," Sihtric says, mirroring Finan's exasperation, "Does no royal child have a childhood?"

Father Pyrlig sighs. "A story for another time," he says as explanation.

"Aelfweard is the aethling," Aethelstan says. "He will be king one day. Lord Aethelhelm said it would be wise I remember that." The wee man looks down at the ground. "Perhaps he is a better friend for all of you."

Finan swears under his breath. Damn the Lord Aethelhelm and his vicious tongue. He swoops Aethelstan over his shoulder rather than responding, inciting a squeal of true laughter. "To the river with ye," he says. "For ye smell like horse shit."

Father Pyrlig, bless his soul, quietly directs the aethling away. Lady Aelswith had obviously not been able to protect the wee man the vitriol of the palace. Finan plops the boy in the stream, clothes and all. "Osferth," he says, "can ye go find Lord Aethelstan some clothes that will fit?"

Osferth looks left, then right. "Finan, where? Have you forgotten we are in an army camp?" He says in confusion.

Finan exhales and just glares at him.

"Right, clothes," he says, and rushes off toward camp.

Aethelstan scrubs himself in the water. "Where is Lady Eadith?" He asks nonchalantly. "I should like to see her."

Finan stomach drops, and Sihtric's eyes snap to his. Shit. He breathes in, breathes out. Does it again. Finan would like to speak, but he can't. Sihtric, bless him, understands. "You didn't see her within?" He asks carefully.

"No. Her brother was there though. With the Danes."

Finan clenches his teeth. Sihtric' eyes widen, and he reaches a hand to Finan's shoulder, squeezing it. "Oh?" Sihtric says, trying to pull more information from the boy. Aethelstan is washing and has no idea of the effect of his words.

"He told them that Stiorra is Lord Uhtred's daughter when we arrived," the boy says, derision in his tone. "He is not a good man."

Finan begins to dig his boot heel into the shore bed. Sihtric squeezes harder.

"When did you last see Stiorra?"

"The first day," Aethelstan says softly. "The man in charge, the one who brought us out, said he wanted her for himself."

Finan closes his eyes. Lord Uhtred may not survive losing Stiorra, after all he has already lost. He swallows, runs a hand through his hair. He wants to scream, or kill an enemy.

"Sihtric, why did you ask if I saw Lady Eadith?" Aethelstan asked as he turned to face them. He looked so young and innocent, dripping wet, knee deep in the stream. "Isn't she here with you?"

Finan can not take it anymore. He swears loudly, making Aethelstan jump. Finan turns and makes for the woods as fast as his feet would carry him, before he loses it in front of the child and frightens him.

Eadith had never made it to the hostages. Aethelstan had not seen Stiorra since the first day. It had been weeks. And now his Lord was also within. When he is far enough away that he would not raise an alarm, he finally screams his frustration.

**  
Finan does not sleep that night. He sits outside Aethelstan's tent, sharpening his sword. Osferth and Sihtric seem to be taking turns checking on him. Apparently it is Osferth's turn now. He hands Finan some smoked meat, then sits on the stump next to him. "She is fierce, Finan," he says softly. "There is a chance she is still alive."

Finan can only grind his teeth. "Are ye talking about Stiorra, who was taken into a den of men who hate her father? Or are ye talking about Eadith," and fuck all, his voice almost broke when he said her name. He swallows and tries again, "Eadith, who we let walk in willingly. And to what end? Aethelstan has told us where they hold the others. If Stiorra lives, Uhtred will find her."

"If Uhtred lives," Osferth says, and then his eyes widen as he realizes what he has said.

Finan growls. Osferth is taller than him, but he has nothing on him in strength or sword skills. He would never fight a brother, but just now he is seething.

"I am sorry, Finan. I know this is difficult."

Finan stops sharpening his blade, turns it to examine it, and then sticks the tip before him. He exhales. It isn't just of him to lash out at Osferth. "My anger masks my fear," he says softly. "When I first met Lord Uhtred on the slave ship, I had nothing left-not hope or fear or anything in between. When we were freed, hope returned. But fear...I am not sure I have truly been afraid of anything until now. I do not fear death, never have." He breathes and speaks aloud the fear that will not relent. "I will not be able to live with myself if I allowed her to walk to her death. I should have stopped her."

Finan is usually the one that comforts them, all of them, when they are afraid or hurting from loss. Now, Osferth takes that burden and hugs him, and he is thankful.

**

Dawn is breaking when Sihtric runs to get him. "Come," he says urgently. Finan starts to ask what has happened and then decides against it when he gets a good look at the other man. Sihtric's eyes tell him all he needs to know. It is nothing good. Still, he does not accurately anticipate the catastrophic nature of the news. His breath catches when he sees his Lord's sword in King Edward's hands. He runs his hands through his hair. This can not be how it ends, with him sitting on his ass in camp while the people he should protect are taken.

He could still be alive, Finan says, first to himself, and then to the king. There is much discussion, but it's a buzz in Finan's ears. The Mercians arrive, and Finan and the others are dismissed. Without Uhtred here, they are not even considered to be a part of the decision making. And so they breach the walls of Winchester in a fog of stinking smoke.

Before they go, though, Finan finds Aethelstan. "Pray with me?" He asks the boy.

His wee man nods, his hand on Finan's cross. Aethelstan's is gone. Finan would ask about it, but there is no time for that now. "For what are we praying, Finan?"

"The people within," he says, "for we are about to go to battle for them." The boy nods, solomn.

"Lord," Aethelstan says, "Please keep Lady Aelswith, Lady Eadith, Lord Uhtred, Stiorra, and all others who both know you and do not safe." Finan feels a small hand slide into his. "Please watch over the warriors of Wessex Lord, and King Edward as they fight for your kingdom. In your name we pray."

"Amen," Finan finishes with him. He cuffs the kid on the back of his neck, drawing their foreheads close. "You are not no one, Aethelstan," Finan says gently. "Remember that." He stands and hands him a dagger. "Just in case," he says. Then Finan hears Edward's call. The time has come.

**

The battle has not been going on long when they hear the call. "Shield Wall!" The lanky Dane roars it, sword in hand, from the steps of the palace. Finan can just make him out through the smoke.

"Shield Wall," the King roars in return. Sihtric is on his right, Osferth is on his left, so he ventures a look in the direction of the call as the line forms. He sees Lord Uhtred, waving at the Dane, calling to him. He's alive! "Osferth, Sihtric, look," he says.

They are focused on something else though, something in front of the line. "Finan," Sihtric says urgently, elbowing him and nodding to the gulf that has formed between the Dane and Saxon armies.

On the ground is a heap with an unmistakable red hair, and a cloak color he would recognize anywhere, despite it being covered in soot and dirt. Eadith. It's Eadith.

"Dear God," he cries, and he drops everything. Sihtric and Osferth move their shields aside so he can step through. A Dane steps in, sword raised, ready to challenge him, but he can only think of Eadith. He puts his hands up. "Please," is all he can say. Please let her be alive. Please let him get to her. The man eyes Finan, the lump on the ground, the line of soldiers behind the tall man. He steps back into the Danish line.

Finan is bending down. "Eadith," he says her name, and then he says it again. She groans as he turns her, and then Thank the Good Lord, those blue-green eyes lock on his. "It's all right," he says, breathing his first real breath in weeks. "You're all right," he murmurs, lifting her. "Come on." Her arms come around his neck, and he has her. His chest clenches, but it's different now. She's safe, alive and in his arms.

Uhtred calls his name, and he knows they must remove themselves from the middle of the two armies. Osferth and Sihtric part again, admitting them. "Go," Sihtric says. "You know where I keep supplies."

Finan has never walked away from a battle, but he does so now gladly. Eadith's head rests against his armor. She has reached up and laced her fingers behind his neck. Her eyes are closed. "Sweet Jesus Eadith but you've given me a scare," he murmurs, as much for himself as for her. He turns to the left, checking his mental map. A few more turns and they would arrive at the brothel. "When Athelstan said he hadn't seen 'ye…"

Her eyes flutter open and she makes a sound. "Aethelstan…," she starts, and her fingers thread into his hair."

"Safe, Eadith, he's safe," he reassures her. "And now you are, too." He turns left again, and finds the building he's looking for. He sets her on the table, helping her sit up. She cries out in pain, her arms wrapped around her middle.

"Stiorra?" She gasps.

He carefully removes her cloak and sets it aside. He gently probes her stomach, followed by her sides. She gasps as he touches the right side. "I think," Finan says, considering, "she must be alive. Lord Uhtred seemed to be negotiating for Sigtrygger with the King. I do not think he would negotiate with a man who killed his daughter." She cries out as he prods at her left side, and this time his fingers come away with blood. "I think yer ribs are broken, and is this from a sword?" He asks. He steadies her with one hand and reaches into the chest under the table. Sihtric's wife was partial to the women here, so he kept a stash of necessities, should the women ever be in need of assistance.

"A boot, I think," she says through clenched teeth. He blots at the wound with a clean cloth. "I got caught in a wave of people and they carried me along," she says.

"It's not deep," he says, thankful. He presses a clean bandage and begins wrapping the wound. "For the ribs," his says gently, "I will have to wrap tightly. It will hurt."

She nods. He starts wrapping and she gasps, grabbing the mail covering his arms. He hates causing her pain, so he talks. "How did ye like your first battle?"

She chuckles. "I swear it will be my last.". He wraps, and takes in her face, still unable to believe she is before him, whole. "From now on, I will be staying in the tent." He chuckles with her, and dares to imagine that she means to stay--with them, with him. He wraps again and pulls, watches as she squeezes his arm and closes her eyes against the pain. She is spectacular, he thinks, brave and strong. She does not give herself enough credit. "You showed the spirit of a true warrior." He wraps again.

She smiles half-heartedly. "Perhaps my family honor is restored," she says. He wraps again. She gasps and leans away. "If only those who cared for me were around to see it." She makes a soft sound, and at first he thinks he hurt her. His brow furrows. He cares for her. It's then that he realizes she's crying. He gets the impression that this is something more. He secures the bandage, sits on the table and gently pulls her into his lap. He just holds her, hands stroking her upper back soothingly. Eadith, he thinks, has so rarely been given the opportunity to do things on her own terms. She will wait, and let her take the lead. She can speak if she wishes, or not. He can just be here for her. She deserves that. He won't say the words, because he knows she won't believe him. So he shows her instead. She grips his arm and leans into his chest. I'm here. He runs his hand up and down her back. I care.

He doesn't know how long they sit. Eventually she quiets. Her breathing returns to normal. She's holding tight to the arm he has across her front. "My brother was here," she finally says, her voice barely above a whisper. " With the Danes." She swallows, exhales. "Finan, I think he brought them here. I think he told them King Edward was in Mercia.". He strokes his hand up and down her back. He noses her hair, wishing he could do more to show her she was not alone. "I saw him, and I knew he would give Stiorra away. I just knew. I was certain she was dead." Her fingers dig into the mail covering his arm. "I thought about leaving, but I didn't. Then they brought him out, Finan. In such a small space of time he went from walking among them to being on his knees in the square." She closes her eyes, leans into Finan more. "I asked for mercy for him. It was such a foolish thing to do, to draw their attention, but I had to do something." Perhaps it was foolish, he thinks, but it was also very brave. He would say so, but he doesn't want to interrupt her. "He called me a whore." Finan growled at this, but neither spoke nor stopped his hand from soothing across her back. "They asked who I was to ask for mercy, and he called me a whore." Tears flood her eyes. "And then he died, Finan, right there in front of me."

He kisses her temple. "I think," he says gently, "he said it to save ye, for the Danes were likely to take you if they thought you were important to him."

"I know this, but those are the last words he ever spoke. The last words I said to him set him on this particular path, Finan. I left him no options. Our last words to each other were both vile, yet he saved me with his dying breath. It is my fault."

Finan tiles her chin up, holding her reddened eyes with his own. "Do not make his choices your burden, Eadith. Twas he who killed Aethelred. Twas he who threatened a wee child with the deaths of those she loved if she did not go with him. Twas he who lead the Danes here. Those were his choices that brought him here, not yours." He kisses her temple again, resumes his hand moving across her back. "I am sorry if the words 'e used hurt you, but I am glad 'e said them. If he had not, you might not be here in my arms."

She nods, and holds tighter to his arm. This is how Sihtric and Osferth find them, sitting silently on a table in front of the whore house.

When they come, Eadith slides of Finan's lap. Her head spins, but Finan has a hand on her shoulder to steady her.

"What news?" He asks.

Sihtric sets about checking Eadith's bandage while Osferth fills in the details. "An agreement has been made. Sigtrygger and Stiorra ride North to Eforwich at first light. The Danish army has already left Winchester to begin the journey. King Edward and the Lady Aethelflaed have given it to the Danes, despite just winning it back."

"Stiorra rides with them?" Finan asked, confused.

"She is unharmed," Sihtric says, finishing examining Eadith. He puts a hand on her shoulder and squeezes. "Sigtrygger demanded to take Stiorra along, but Lord Uhtred spoke to her. She goes willingly. You did well with the bandages, Finan." He turns to Eadith. "He's usually not very good at fixing things, Eadith, and especially not people. I think it means he likes you."

Finan rolls his eyes. "May the Good Lord save me from Sihtric's insults."

"It was a complement, Finan!" Osferth says. Eadith laughs and then groans. "We are glad you are well Lady Eadith," Osferth says, taking her hand.

"Uhtred has gone to camp with Father Pyrlig to fetch the boys," Osferth continues. "The Lady Aelswith is not well, so King Edward has asked that Aethelstan remain with us until they decide what to do with him. The King feels he will not be welcomed in the castle."

"Boys?" Eadith says, confused. "As in, more than one?"

Sihtric sighs. "There is much to tell. Ainsleigh has given us her home while we are here. I think we should go rest, eat and talk."

"Ainsleigh?" Eadith asked.

Finan chuckles. "Why the woman who owns this house of ill repute, of course. She's fond of Sihtric, despite previous transgressions."

Sihtric sighs. "Watch it Irishman. It's been far too long of a day to fight you, but I will."

Finan laughs. It feels good.

**

Sihtric leads them to a simple home not far from the brothel. It is a single, large room with a large hearth. Two large beds are situated along one wall. Along the other is a large table. A small kitchen is tucked in the corner.

Eadith groans at the sight of the bed. "An actual bed. I need to get clean so I can lie upon it. Oh, how I have missed an actual bed." She realized all three of the men are now staring at her.

"Just where," Finan says slowly, "were ye for the last week's, Eadith? Aethelstan did not see ye, and you had no bed?"

She sighs, sitting on the bench. "I was so foolish. After I called mercy for Eardwulf, the great ugly Dane...Haesel?"

"Heasten," Sitric says slowly.

"He guessed I was Eardwulf's sister. He took me to a loft above the butcher's."

Finan turns and swears, running a hand through his hair. She imagines he is thinking the worst, as she had at first.

"He did not hurt me," she says.

Finan does not turn. Sometimes he is so confounding, silent when she expects him to speak, distant when she wants him near.

"He kept silver there, and gold. He brought it piece by piece. He paid the man below handsomely to guard it, for I tried to leave once and he chased be back up with a sword. He would not take silver. Haeston brought food when he came with his riches. I think he considered me among them."

"I swear, the next time we see that bag of horse shit," Finan snarls, "we kill him." He sounds far more menacing than Eadith had ever heard him before.

"Finan, he did not touch me, I swear it."

Sihtric goes to the table next to Eadith and flips an apple to Osferth, hands one to Eadith and then takes another for himself. Finan is still stubbornly facing away. Sihtric takes a bite of the apple.

"Haesten has a habit of becoming…" He says, and then sways his head, as if looking for the proper word. "Infatuated?"

"Obsessed," Osferth chimes in.

"Yes, that works, too" Sihtric says, taking another bite. "He has a history of not easily letting go of the women who escape him, including the Lady Aethelflaed. So yes, Finan, next time we kill him, I think. Just to be safe."

Finan goes to a basin of water that someone has left and fills a large pot. He places it over the hearth fire. He sighs, and finally looks at Eadith. He says nothing, his brown eyes intense and unreadable.

There is a knock on the door. Finan and Sihtric are both immediately at attention, a hand on their swords as they motion for Osferth to open the door.

A maid stands outside. "I am looking for the lady Eadith?" She says lightly. "The Lord King has sent me to assist her in washing."

Finan smiles with way too many teeth, so that he looks menacing instead of his usual charming, if not exceedly large, self. "Perhaps the Lord King has finally come to his senses and has realized the Lady Eadith has saved his skin many times over."

"I have not," Eadith says.

"But you have," Osferth says. "Had you not freed us, Lady, King Edward would not have arrived at Winchester for many days, and he well could have walked into a trap."

"Not to mention ye have saved him from 'is many stupid decisions in Mercia," Finan says. "Come, let's allow her to wash." He opens the door and swings his arm to usher the others out.

An unreasonable panic sweeps through her and she stands. She does it too quickly and the world tilts. She has to put a hand on the table.

"Are ye alright, Eadith?" Finan says.

"Yes just…" she breathes through the dizzy spell. "Can you stay close? Please?". She feels safer with them near, with him near. She would very much like to feel safe for awhile, after everything. Not just the siege, but all that had come before.

Finan gives a little dip. "Of course, Lady."

For some reason, the formality of it stings.

**  
He comes back as the maid leaves, clean bandages in his hand, along with a few other items. He has washed his face, but his mail and armor are still in places.

Now that she's clean, she finds she is exhausted. The maid has helped her dress, but the ache in her ribs has become a pulsing throb. She's sitting on the edge of the bed as he enters. She starts to rise, and thinks better of it when her ribs protest.

"Ack, Eadith, ye must rest." He says, crossing the room in three long strides with concern etched on his face.

"Oh thank heavens, you did not call me ‘Lady’ again."

He exhales, sounding frustrated. "Ye are a lady, Eadith. I do not know why ye are so set on thinkin' otherwise."

"No, I …" she can not find the words. It’s odd, but she had forgotten how set she had been before about no longer being a lady. This had nothing at all to do with that. She just couldn’t figure out how to explain it. It barely made sense to her. "Oh, never mind."

"Would ye like Sihtric to wrap yer ribs?" He asks, softly, standing next to her as she sits on the edge of the bed. He towers over her, all muscle and hard lines. He still smells of blood and battle, and he should not be appealing. He should be terrifying, but he isn’t. For he is Finan. "He's far better at it that I, he was not lyin' about that."

"You, please," she says.

"Can ye stand? I have not washed and I don't want to sour yer sheets." He offers her a hand and helps her to her feet.

He leads her to the bench at the large table and straddles the end, gently pulling her down to sit between his legs. "Did she dress her wound?" He asks. She only nods. He makes a non-committal sound, and then begins wrapping. The only sound is the crackle of the hearth fire and her occasional gasps as he pulls the wrapping tight.

"I don't like it when you call me 'Lady,' Finan," she says finally. There, that made sense now, didn’t it?

He looks up, confused. "Hmm?" He says. Perhaps he had been silent because his mind was somewhere else all together.

She sighs and tries again. "When you call me 'Lady,' I feel like a stranger," she says. "And you do not feel like a stranger to me." And there it is, she thinks. The truth of it.

He tucks the bandage and gently pats her belly where it lies. He exhales, and dips his head to rest his forehead against hers. "Nor you to me, Eadith." She feels a little dizzy again, but this time it has nothing to do with the pain in her ribs. She does not understand anything when she is around this man, except that she wants to stay around him, and that is something new and uncharted.

They sit there for a while, and she revels in his breath at her ear, and the fact that she can hear his heart from here. She has never felt so safe. Men are never safe, not for her, and yet he is. "Ye need to rest," he says softly. "Aethelstan will be here soon, and then there will be no rest at all. He misses ye. He could not believe I didn't have the good sense to keep ye close."

"My choice," she says, half asleep. Finan helps her up and to the bed.

Finan chuckles. "Well it sure wasn't mine." He turns away.

"Don't go," she says, irrational again and too tired to care.

He sighs and sits on the floor near her head. She's falling asleep, but she thinks she hears him say, "Never."

**  
A metallic rustle wakes her. Her eyes are heavy, but she sees Finan's shadow move near the fire. Light still filters through the windows, so she hasn't been asleep for long. Her eyes come into focus as he drops the leather armor to the floor. The chain mail goes next, and now her vision is just fine. He strips the sweaty green tunic off next, and she tries to stifle the gasp as his back comes into view. She had expected scars--had known they would be there since she’d seen the white lines crossing his biceps and disappearing under the leather armor he’d just removed, back in Mercia. His back is a ruin of scar tissue, red and white lines crossing one another in patterns too numerous to count. He freezes, just for a moment, and turns his head to the fire. She thinks he must have heard her, but then he continues at his task. He bends over the basin and washes his neck, under his arms. She watches the play of his muscles under all the scars, and can not comprehend how something so graceful and strong can exist where there must have been so much pain. She had seen Lord Uhtred’s back during his baptism in Aeglesberg, and that had been bad enough. But Finan’s back was scars laid upon scars, laid upon more scars. She has to close her eyes and focus on breathing, because otherwise she is going to make a sound that is going to put her distress known, and that would not do. When she opens them again, Finan is pulling on a soft blue tunic. She realizes she’s never seen him without at least the leather armor before. He is always the warrior.

The door opens then, and suddenly the room is filled with noise and the smell of food. “Dinner has arrived!” Sihtric calls.

Eadith sits up slowly, gingerly holding the ribs. “I will never, ever leave the tent,” she grumbles. “Never!” This earns her a quiet chuckle from Finan.

“Eadith!” Aethelstan launches himself in her direction, only to be plucked mid-leap by Finan, who spins him instead.

“No, wee man,” he says, “Eadith has hurt herself and if ye go throwing yerself around you will cause her pain, and I know ye would never want to do that.”

His eyes grow wide. “Are you alright?” He asks. Finan puts him down and he rushes to her side, far more sedate.  
“I am,” she says, ruffling his hair. “Just a little sore, right here,” she gestures to her side. “As long as you don’t squeeze me there all will be well.”

The boy takes her arm and squeezes it. “I was worried,” he said, “when I realized you were not with them. Finan was worried, too.”

“Understatement, boy,” Sihtric says.

Finan picks up an apple from the basket of fruit at the table and throws it at Sihtric’s head. “Enough, ye little runt.”

“If I’m the runt,” Sihtric says, neatly snapping the apple out of the air with his hand, “what does that make the boy?” He bites into the apple.

Aethelstan looks at Eadith, his nose wrinkling. They laugh together, which hurts, but she can not regret it. They are together again, all of them.

“Where is Lord Uhtred,” she says suddenly, realizing he is missing from his men.

“With Stiorra,” Osfreth says. “She leaves in the morning with the Dane, Sigtrygger. Our Lord will not leave her side before then.”

They spread food out on the large table, and then eat like kings. Sihtric pours ale from a large jug. Aethelstan tells them of his time with Lady Aelswith and the other captives in the chapel. He speaks of his grandfather and Lord Aethelhelm’s insults.

“I’ve never seen ye talk this much, wee man,” Finan observes.

Aethelstan shrugs. “I missed you. All of you. I do not have to be anyone but myself.”

“Not no one,” Finan says, ruffling his hair.

The boy grins up at him. “No one, no more,” he says.

Eadith leans against the boy, smiling, and then she finds Finan’s dark, sparkling eyes over his head.

Aethelstan falls asleep in Eadith’s bed long before the rest are done eating. The men fill her in on Aelfweard, the second boy and the aethling. “With the Lady Aelswith unwell,” Osferth says, “I do not know what will become of Aethelstan. She can not take him to Bedwyn as planned.”

“‘E can not stay here,” Finan says. “He’s come so far, he can not stay here. They will convince him he is nothin’.”

“It’s not our decision, Finan,” Sihtric says, needlessly.

“We can only pray that there is a better choice,” Osferth says, bumping Finan with his shoulder.

Eadith yawns, and Finan must notice because he makes quick work of wrapping up the dinner and conversation. Sihtric and Osferth will take the other bed and Finan will sleep on a bed roll near the fire.

“With any luck,” Sihtric says, “I will be home with Marasin by nightfall tomorrow. She’s a much finer bedmate than you, Osferth.”

“I’m sure she smells nicer than you, Sihtric,” Osferth retorts.

“Do you three ever stop?” Eadith asks, climbing into the bed with Aethelstan. The little boy turned against her and sighed, contentedly. “It seems I am not the only one who is happy to have a bed. Good night, child.”

The room goes quiet. The only sound is the crackling of the fire and the even breathing of the men in the room. The others fall asleep quickly, but Finan sits on his bed roll before the fire, his arms on his elbows. She watches him for a long while. He can be so still, sometimes. The hearth fire is fading, and still he has not moved. “Finan?” She says softly.

He stands up and returns to his spot on the floor next to her bed. He leans against the wall, arms again resting on his knees. His eyes are dark and unreadable.

“Finan, what is it?” She finally asks.

He just looks to the boy sleeping next to her, and then back to her. Oh. “I don’t know what tomorrow will bring,” she says softly, “but we can pray that God will watch out for him.” Finan’s right hand finds his cross, and his left hand finds her’s.

He closes his eyes, his thumb slipping along the top of her hand. “‘e is not mine, ‘e is of royal blood, but I wish to see him have the things every child deserves. A home and people who love him. No one will love him here. I do not think they are capable of love.”

She watches him, examining the hard lines of his jaw and how they melt away into his beard, full and alarmingly handsome. His eyes, still closed, have eyelashes that are longer than any man she’s met. The men she has been with before always want to talk, or hump. Finan is so different. She wonders if this stillness that comes to him sometimes is from what he endured, whatever it was.

He opens his eyes and is looking at her again. He looks tired. “I can hear ye thinking from here. Ask, then. I know ye saw my back.”

“You do not have to speak of it if you don’t wish to,” she says, “whatever it is.”

“I do not want ye to think less of me, Eadith,” he says softly.

Her mouth falls open. Of all the things he could have said, this is the last thing she would have expected. “Finan . . . “ She just squeezes his hand, at a loss for words.

He leans his head against the wall and looks up to the ceiling. He tells her of Irland, and his wife, and his brother. He tells her of betrayal and loss. He tells her of the feeling of the shackles being locked around his ankles, and how the flesh on his feet would fall off when the water stayed too deep for too long. He tells her of losing hope, and wishing for death, and knowing it will never come. He tells her how time ceased to exist, how he ceased to exist. The slavers would sometimes whip him because he did fall, and sometimes because he didn’t. Over and over again. Four years. He was enslaved for four years. She weeps, silently, as he stares at the ceiling and goes on. He meets Uhtred and a man named Halig, and he remembers that he is Finan. He has someone to talk to again. They try to run, but they can not escape because Uhtred would not leave Halig behind. Halig is tied to the front of the ship as punishment for their sins. Uhtred weeps as he drowns. They row, and row, and it seems it will never end. They return again to North Umbria, and Uhtred’s kin and friends are there. They are free. He kills the slaver as soon as the chains are broken. He has fought by Uhtred ever since.

When he is finished, he finally looks at her, eyes guarded. “I never cry,” she says, sniffling, “and yet of late I can not seem to stop.”

“Ye do not need to cry for me,” he says.

She shakes her head and squeezes his hand again. Finally, she speaks the words she has been thinking for quite some time. “You are the best man I have met, Finan.”

He chuckles and the corner of his mouth raises in a half smile. “Ye don’t keep the best company, Eadith.”

She starts to laugh and remember it hurts. “Don’t make me laugh," she chides. “You are not wrong, but it does not change that you are the most honorable man I’ve ever known. You and Sihtric and Osferth and Uhtred--you are different from anyone I’ve ever known.”

He sighs. “I’ve never told anyone,” he says, eyes holding hers, warm and deep now. “Bits and pieces, yes, but not the whole thing from start to finish. Ye are not a stranger, Lady Eadith of Mercia.”

She is suddenly exhausted. She squeezes his hand. “Thank you, Finan,” she says, “for trusting me with your story.” He’s still holding her hand when she falls asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Too trope-y? There were moments that I thought yes. But then again, it's fan fiction and I wanted it so badly. 
> 
> Also, do you want to know what I discovered in my rewatch to make sure I got the details of 4x10 right? Finan LITERALLY throws down all of his shit as soon as he sees Eadith. I couldn't believe I missed it the first time. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed. This obviously ends the canon-compliant portion of the adventure. More to come!


	4. You make known to me the path of life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aethelstan's fate becomes known, and Eadith makes plans for the future

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this happened. I started this chapter with the intention of making far more progress than I did. But after 6k words I figured I better split it. Enjoy and thank you all for your comments.

They are eating breakfast at the table when Uhtred arrives. He, too, gets tackled by Aethelstan. Finan is sitting on the end of the far bench, leaning against the wall, one foot on the bench in front of him. His elbow rests on his knee as he works at a piece of bread. Athelstan had been sitting next to him, with Eadith on his other side. “Lord Uhtred,” she says. “Good morning.”

“How are you, Lady?” he asks genuinely.

“Very sore, today, actually.”

“Yes, ribs will do that. Today will be the worst though, rest assured.” He takes an apple and sits next to Sihtric. “I have come to take Aethelstan to see the Lady Aelswith.” He hands Aethelstan a book, saying, “King Edward asked me to give this to you.”

“Thank you, Lord,” Aethelstan says, taking the book. “Is the Lady still not well?”

“No, she isn’t,” Uhtred says.

Aethelstan frowns, and then runs his hands over the cover of the book. He climbs back to his spot between Finan and Eadith, and opens the pages. “It’s about the great wars of Wessex,” Aethelstan says in awe.

Finan sighs and begins to bounce his knee. Eadith shoots him a look, knowing that he is anxious about Aethelstan’s unknown fate. He rolls his eyes at her, but miracle of miracles, he stops shaking his foot.

“Stiorra rides for Eforwitch this morning,” Uhtred says as he breaks a piece of bread from the loaf. “I do not intend to stay in Winchester once she leaves. It is time to return to Coccham.”

Sihtric’s hang goes to the hammer around his neck. “Thank the gods,” he says. “I have been away from Marisin too long.”

Finan’s foot starts twitching again. Eadith nearly laughs out loud as Aethelstan shoves his elbow into Finan’s leg. Finan’s eyes widen in surprise, and then he looks at Eadith. When he realizes she saw it too, he breaks into the most ridiculous grin. It’s such a small thing, and yet a wonderful sign that Aethelstan is beginning to behave as a child should, instead of sullen and sad, fearful of making a mistake or offending someone.

“What are your plans, Lady?” Uhtred asks, seemingly unaware of the silent exchanges taking place across from him.

This is the question Eadith has been dreading. “I was planning on staying in Winchester,” she says, “but after the events of the past weeks I would rather not. I have no idea, to be honest.”

“Perhaps this will help,” Uhtred says, and pulls two rather large bags of coin from his tunic. “The Lord King Edward is quite thankful for the assistance you have rendered, both here and in Mercia.”

Finan laughs. “Told ye, Eadith. Maybe he is becoming less of a turd.” He nudges her with his foot behind Aethelstan. “This means yer path is yer own. You can go wherever you choose,” he says encouragingly.

“Come with us,” Osferth says. Eadith blinks in surprise. “You’d like Coccham, there is a great deal to be done.”

“I should like for you to meet my wife,” Sihtric says, nodding.

She looks to Finan, who simply raises an eyebrow. She considers it. She has no other place to go. “I don’t know,” she says.

“There’s even a house for you,” Osferth says, “and horses.”

That peaks her attention. “Horses?”

Osferth nods. “The man who breeds and breaks the horses for the tenants died last winter. His house is no prize, but it will do. At least stay the winter, see how you like it. Come spring, you will still have your silver and you can choose your path.”

She looks to Uhtred. “It is true,” he says. “The horses are just standing in the stable, or were when we left. It is harvest time now. I doubt anyone has time for them.”

It sounds very tempting. When she was a child, she had spent most of her time in the stables. Aelsward, one of her father’s most senior groomsmen, was kind to her and showed her everything she knew about horses. To not only have a place to be, on her own terms, but also to have a purpose again, beyond attempting to regain the things that had been lost . . . it was very tempting indeed. Everything she had done for nearly ten years had been about trying to undo her father’s fall from grace. Now, she has no obligations unless she chooses to.

She looks again to Finan, who remains stubbornly silent as he chews on the bread. The horses sound so appealing. She wouldn’t just be tagging along--she might actually be able to contribute in this Coccham they speak of. She also can not forget that she enjoys being around these men, and has never felt more safe. They make her feel as if she belongs, despite the wrongs her brother had done. But why is Finan so silent? She would have expected him to be in favor of this idea.

In the end, it was the possibility of working with horses that won her over. “Are you sure you don’t mind, Lord Uhtred?”

“You’d be doing the people of Coccham a favor lady. The closest town is a half day’s ride. It would be nice to have someone who is willing to deal with the animals. There’s space, too. The old man, Taggart, used to breed a few here and there. When he grew old, it all fell into disrepair. It can be whatever you wish it to be.”

Possibilities, she thinks again. “Okay then,” she says. “Coccham it is.” And for the first time in as long as she can remember, she thinks about how she can put the funds in her possession to good use.

Only then does Finan grin, showing all of his white teeth. “Good,” he says.

Uhtred leaves soon after, taking Aethelstan and Finan with him. She hugs the boy, uncertain if he will return. Aethelstan has King Edward’s book tucked under his arm. Finan frowns down at the boy’s head, his sullen mood back. “Tell the Lady Aelswith I pray for the return of her health,” she tells him with one last hug.

“I will Eadith,” he says, squeezing her fiercely. No one speaks of the fact that what happens next for Aethelstan is completely up to King Edward.

When they leave, she begins grilling Osferth and Sihtric all about Coccham. It’s a welcome distraction.

**

Finan is quiet as they walk to the palace, his mind a jumble of thoughts about both Eadith and Aethelstan. She was coming with them to Coccham. He’d had to practically bite his tongue in two all morning to keep himself from asking her to do just that, but now she was planning on it all of her own volition. He’d come to understand something, as he’d watched her sleep. He wanted her in a way he’d never wanted anything in his entire life, not just in his bed but in every moment from now until the end. But here is a Lady who’d been used time and again by the people who should have protected and loved her. Her own brother had used her as a bargaining chip with the Lord Aethelred, and had called her a whore for the choices he had forced upon her. Eadith needed some peace, and the opportunity to find her own way in the world. She had to have that before he could ever hope for anything more between them. So he had held her hand long into the night and vowed that he would not touch her again until she asked him to. He knows that if he begins to touch her, he will not want to stop, and this is something that can not be hurried. He must give her heart time to heal from the wrongs that have been done to it, so that there will be room enough for him, if she wants him.

And then there is the boy. Aethelstan’s path is completely out of his hands and he hates it. Everything is up to Edward, now, and the Lady Aelswith if she is well enough to have a say. Finan does not want to say goodbye to the boy, but he knows that it is a very real possibility that after today, he may not see him again.

He and Lord Uhtred discuss the plan for the morning as they walk, and it is decided that Uhtred will take Aethelstan to the King, so that he may see his grandmother. Finan will secure supplies for their journey home, and will meet Uhtred by noon in the courtyard, so that he may wish Stiorra well before she departs. By then, there should be an answer regarding Aethelstan, and then he can deal with whatever that brings.

He ruffles the boy’s hair when they arrive at the palace, and tries to convince himself this is not goodbye. “I will see ye in a bit, wee man.” Aethelstan just looks up at him and nods, eyes wide with uncertainty. Uhtred clasps him on the shoulder, then turns to surrender his sword to the palace guard.

Finan spends the next few hours procuring goods for their trip home. Many are things needed for the hall and for the coming winter, but there are other things, too. He finds himself buying several bolts of fabric in wine and burgundy colors that Eadith seems to favor, as well as a blue that would bring out her eyes. This morning she had dressed back into her wine traveling dress, and he realized she had nothing but the clothes on her back. Once they arrived in Coccham, supplies would be limited, and he wanted her to have what she needed when the realization came. He bought enough fabric so that she could have dresses made by one of the women who resided on Lord Uhtred’s lands, and also so that she would have enough left over to add personal touches to old Taggert’s cottage. He picks up a few other housewares, and asks that the packages be dropped at Ainsleigh’s house by the late afternoon. Noon came all too soon, and he found himself dreading whatever news was to come regarding Aethelstan.

He enters the courtyard, and good fortune has him entering as Stiorra is heading to the horses. “Finan!” she says, hugging him. “I was worried I would not see you before we left.”

He smiles at her, unable to believe she is riding north with a Dane. “Yer father will have already asked ye if y’ are certain about this,” he said, and it was not a question.

“I am, Finan,” she nods. “I must see where fate takes me.”

He remembers holding her in Coccham, just a wee babe, not long after she was born. “That is somethin’ I understand,” he says, “but I simply can not believe ye’ve grown and are leavin’ on yer own, Stiorra. Twas not that long ago you were Aethelstan’s size.”

“You’ll watch over Father, Finan?” She asks. He shakes his head at the question.

“Ye know I will. But who will watch over ye, Stiorra?”

“Sigtrygger will,” she says confidently. “I know that sounds ridiculous, considering everything, but he’s a kind man, Finan. I have to see where this leads. My father’s lands are in the north, and fate is taking me north.”

She is headstrong and brave, so much like both her father and her mother. Of course she is ready to strike out on her own, but he finds it is difficult even for him to let go. He can not imagine what it is like for his Lord. “Stay safe, Stiorra, for yer father will never forgive himself if harm befalls you.’

“I know. Until we meet again, Finan.” She hugs him one last time, and then walks out to the center yard, where the Dane she speaks so fondly of is waiting with the horses. Finan is content to wait in the shadows until they ride off, knowing that Uhtred will find him when it is time to depart.

The bustle of activity in the courtyard has faded. Finan has lost track of time, and is examining the stone of the wall, lest he think about unanswered questions, when Uhtred finally arrives. Aethelstan is walking behind him, holding the book that Lord Uhtred had brought him in the morning. “Well, Lord?” He says.

Uhtred raises an eyebrow and keeps walking. “Not here,” he says.

They walk out onto the streets of Winchester, retrieving their weapons as they exit the palace, and turn for the gate to exit the city. It is only after they are outside the walls and walking briskly toward the forest that Uhtred speaks.

“The King has asked me to care for Aethelstan,” he finally says.

Finan exhales a sigh of relief and ruffles the boy’s hair. “Then why are we leaving like wanted men, Lord?” he asks.

“I do not think Aethelstan is safe within Winchester. Edward would like to blame Lady Aelswith’s illness on the Danes, but I am not convinced. Aethelhelm is an ambitious man, and he was confined with the Lady during the siege. Sigtrygger also swore to me that he did nothing to harm her.” They have reached the forest and Uhtred continues along the edge, his path taking them steadily north under the cover of the trees. “Aethelhelm was brutal in his interpretations of Edward’s requests in Mercia, and I have no doubt he will do whatever he deems necessary to secure his grandson’s claim to the throne, especially since he now knows the King does not choose well between the two.”

“So ye have a plan, then?” Finan asks, “Beyond traipsing through the forest like the devil is on your heels?”

“Yes, I have a plan. We must ensure that no one from Winchester knows where the boy is. We do not dwell here so that it is uncertain where Aethelstan has gone. He and I will travel by foot to Lichfield, for it will be easier to stay unseen without horses. You and the others are to ride to Coccham. In seven day’s time, send Sihtric and five trusted men who have no ties binding them to meet me there. They are to come in by the main road. Aethelstan and I will find them, so long as they come that way."

“Yes, Lord,” Finan says. “And then what are we to do?”

“A ship should have already arrived at Coccham to replace the one lost at Bedanburg. Three weeks after Sihtric has left, you and Osferth shall take 4 men with you and sail the ship to Grimsby.”

“Grimsby, Lord?” Finan is unsure of what his lord is planning for Aethelstan, or how these directions fit together.

“Yes, it’s on the river Humber. It is Dane-law. Sihtric, Aethelstan and I will meet you there, and if the gods favor us, no one will know where or who he is.”

“And then, Lord?”

Uhtred exhales. “Then we return to Coccham, and we will raise Aethelstan as our own. We must ensure that no one knows the king’s heir is residing in Wessex, so we will lay a long and elaborate false trail.”

“Ye hear that, Aethelstan,” Finan says, gently cuffing the boy on the head. “Ye are stuck with us now. Ye are ours.”

“Now we will part, Finan,” Lord Uhtred says. He turns and clasps Finan’s arm, then hugs him. “The gods willing, I will see you in Grimsby in three fortnights. I hope that we can return to Coccham before the first snowfall.”

Finan stoops down. “It sounds like ye are about to have an adventure,” Finan says to the boy.

Aethelstan hands him the book he has been carrying. “Will you keep this safe for me?” He asks.

“I will,” Finan says. “And it will not be long until we are all together again. Ye just need to do as Uhtred says and keep your head up, wee man.”

The boy hugs Finan. “You’ll tell Eadith I will see her soon.” Finan squeezes him. How dear she has come to them both, in such a short time.

“I will,” he promises, “and when we sail to Coccham, I can promise you she will be waitin’ for ye on the docks.” And then, he thinks, anything is possible. For suddenly he has a woman and a child that he would like to keep in his life, when before he was happy simply to eat and fight.

There is nothing left to say, so Finan leaves them and returns to Winchester.

**

Eadith’s heart stops when Finan opens the door and he is alone. It only takes her a moment though, to realize there is a determined set to Finan’s jaw. He does not look devastated, he looks focused. He looks behind them and closes the door. Sihtric and Osferth are on their feet, and come to stand behind her.

Finan leans against the door and folds his arms, saying nothing.

“Well?” Osferth says, finally, after a long stretch of silence. “What of the child?”

“Edward has given Uhtred the charge of his care.”

Eadith exhales with relief, her ribs protesting. “That’s wonderful news.”

“Then where is he?” Sihtric asks.

Finan takes a seat at the table and plucks an apple from the basket. “His life may be in danger, so we must hide the nut,” Finan says.

Eadith shakes her head. “I do not understand.”

Sihtric brings three cups and a small plate of nuts to the table. Finan grabs the cups and puts them in a line. He picks up a nut, and drops it in a cup, then moves them around.

“Everyone wants the nut,” Sihtric, who clearly understands more than either Eadith or Osferth, explains. “The nut has value, and is a threat to the succession.”

“Aye,” Finan says. He stops moving the cups and puts his hands up. “But where is it?”

Osferth points to the cup on the left. Finan flips over the empty cup. Eadith points to the cup on the right, but it too is empty. “So it must be here,” Osferth says, reaching for the final cup. It too, though, is empty.

Finan grins, showing too many teeth, his eyebrows raised. He looks almost menacing, even to Eadith. She is very glad that he is on her side, for he must make a formidable enemy. Finan holds out his hand and flips it over, revealing the nut is still in his palm.

“Lord Uhtred will hide the King’s bastard son all over England,” Finan explains, “except he’s really going to bring him home to Coccham.” He leans forward, and explains in detail a plan that makes Eadith’s head spin.  
**

They eat lunch and make plans. They will spend the rest of the afternoon purchasing whatever they need. In the morning, they will ride to Coccham. Finan has asked her if she would like to wait a few days, to let her ribs heal, but she is more than ready to leave the walls of Winchester.

“Ye will be in pain most of the ride, Eadith,” he says, his bushy brown brows knit in concern. “It is a full day of hard riding to get to Coccham.”

“I’ll manage,” she says. “After all, I have suffered worse.” She immediately regrets not keeping the last bit to herself, for Finan’s eyes tighten and his jaw clenches.

They go to the stables and Sihtric introduces her to the man who handles the horses. He shows her what he has available. A spirited black stallion catches her eye from where he weaves in the paddock. “Good bloodlines, that one,” says the horseman. “He is more than a little wild though, still not fully broke.”

Eadith loves a challenge. The horse has amazing lines, and she can tell by the way he moves as he bobs and weaves that he will have an excellent gait. As a child, she had spent a great deal of time leaning against fences next to Aelsward and discussing horses in motion. He had taught her how to pick up little bits of information from the way a horse moves. It had been so long since she had thought about such things, but she is excited to find the knowledge is still there. “I’ll take him,” she says. “Show me more of them, please.”

Two finely matched black draft horses are the next to catch her stock. Sihtric and Osferth had told her of the wide variety of tasks at Coccham, and those two looked perfect to the task. “Are either of those two broke to saddle?” She asks.

The horseman nods. “Aye, the mare is, although she’s not the smoothest ride. The stallion is green-broke to saddle, but loves to pull.”

She nods. Her ride to Coccham will be uncomfortable regardless, so she will manage with a horse who will be both versatile and has the potential as broodstock later. “I’ll take them, too.”

Finan finds her as she is handing silver to the horseman. His eyes widen as the three black horses are brought over. “And which of those will ye be ridin’?” He asks.

“That one there,” she says, pointing to the mare draft horse. “It will not be a comfortable ride, but they will serve their purpose well at Coccham, I suspect.”

“Well,” Finan says, raising his eyebrows with that smirk that makes heat pool low in her belly, “at least we won’t need a pack horse.” He turns to the horseman. “We’ll pick those three and the others up in the mornin’.”

“The others?” she asks as they turn to find Sihtric and Osferth.

“Three for Osferth, Sihtric and I,” Finan says, “and three wee horses.”

“Wee horses?” She chuckles. “And who might those be for, Finan?”

“Sihtric’s children, of course,” he says.

She stops. “Wait, Sihtric has children? How has no one ever mentioned this?”

Finan shrugs. “To be fair, ye never asked. The other one, well, I can’t help but notice ye paired your draft horses, lady. An extra wee horse means ye might be able to provide wee horses to other children in Coccham for years to come, if ye wish it.”

She laughs, knowing full well the third is for Aethelstan, and then rubs the immediate ache it causes in her ribs. “I must admit, this idea of having a purpose is quite welcome. I just hope I can manage the challenge."

Finan sticks his thumbs under his leather armor at his arms. “I have no doubt, Eadith, that you can manage the challenge.” She feels her face flush. It’s odd to be around a man who is so steady in his belief of her. “Now, is there anything else you need?” When she shakes her head, he turns toward the house. “Let us return to the house then. Ye need to rest those ribs if yer goin’ to ride that great beast to Coccham in the morning.”

The rest of the evening was spent with conversation, food and games. She sat in her bed, feet tucked under her, and watched Finan and Sihtric play silly game after silly game in front of the fire. Osferth is leaning against the wall, his legs stretched out on the table bench, as he read a book he had picked up earlier in the day. Aethelstan’s book is sitting in her lap, and she opens the pages to read it, but she finds that reading of battles long over was far less interesting than watching the men before her. She will not admit how much time she spends watching the firelight play across Finan’s face, or contemplating the dichotomy of his sheer size with his kindness and grace. It is the quietest, most peaceful afternoon she has had in what feels like a lifetime.

**

Eadith is less sore in the morning, and she wakes with a feeling of excitement. The men are still asleep when she wakes, so she tiptoes to the kitchen to freshen up, studying the sleeping warriors while she goes. Osferth and Sihtric sleep curled in opposite directions on the bed, their backs nearly touching. She can’t help but notice how young Osferth still looks, despite his tall, lanky frame. It’s no wonder they have nicknamed him Baby Monk. Sihtric looks both battle worn and innocent. Finan is of course where her eyes spend most of their time, confound it all. He is wearing a green sleeveless shirt, his arms resting crossed under his head as he sleeps on his belly. She takes a moment to examine the scars crossing his arms, some of which are deep and red. The last time his arms were uncovered was back in Mercia when they had first met. Things had been so different then, so uncertain. Even then, there had been something about him that had called for her trust, despite his size and menacing appearance. She feels the overwhelming need to trace his scars, so instead she goes and washes. When she turns, though, he is watching her, his eyes dark and unreadable. She pulls out bread and fruit and sets it out, all the while feeling his gaze on her.

“Sihtric, Osferth, get up ya lazy fools,” he shouts, making her jump. “The lady is in a hurry.”

“I am not,” she says, but when he raises an eyebrow, she laughs.

Sihtric jumps out of bed. “Today, we ride, and I shall be with my wife by nightfall,” he says, hitting Osferth on the shoulder. “Come on, Baby Monk, let’s go!”

As dawn is breaking across the sky, they gather their belongings and head to the stable. Soon, they are riding through the gates of Winchester, each of them leading a horse or two. The morning is spectacularly beautiful, and Eadith feels powerful perched on top of the tall draft horse. For all the warnings of the horseman, the beautiful mare has a gentle sway to her gait. Her ribs are sore, but she finds it’s easy to forget about them as they cover ground and the scenery changes. They alternate between long stretches of walking and easy lopes, so that the horses do not tire. At noon, they stop at a stream to rest the horses and replenish their water. Eadith stands next to the water’s edge and stretches her side, eyes closed as she listens to the babble of the stream. She hears movement beside her, and somehow knows that it is Finan. “It’s so beautiful here,” she says, eyes still closed.

“It is,” he says. “Are you ready to ride, Eadith?”

She opens her eyes and smiles at him. He is watching her, eyes soft and warm. “Always,” she says. There is a freedom on horseback that rivals nothing else, and she finds it even more refreshing now that she is free from the demands of obligation.

**

The sun is setting at their backs when they top the last rise before Coccham. Below them, Eadith can just make out the walls of the settlement. Sihtric pulls his grey to a halt. “Welcome to Coccham, Lady Eadith,” he says, then he turns expectantly to Finan.

“Fine,” Finan says, reaching for the leadrope of Sihtric’s pony. “Ride to yer wife, Sihtric.”

Sihtric grins, then spurs his horse, letting out a hoot of joy as they tear down the hill.

The others follow at a much slower pace. Eadith has grown more sore as dusk settled over them, her ribs protesting at every sway of the mare’s spine. Finan must have noticed, for they ride slowly. When they finally reach the walls of the village, a crowd has gathered. Eadith is overwhelmed by the number of people standing to greet them.

“Finan!” A slender, older blonde woman in cloth of the church comes out of the crowd, grinning from ear to ear. Finan vaults from his horse, handing the reins to a young boy who is waiting for them, and embraces the woman.

“Hild,” Eadith hears him say, “ye’ve not changed a bit.”

“Nor you, solid as ever,” she says, pulling back. “Is Uhtred not with you? I saw Sihtric but he of course made for home as soon as he told us you were coming.”

Osferth is off. “Lord Uhtred has been delayed,” Osferth says noncommittally.

“Yes,” Finan agrees with a nod, then leans in close and whispers into the nun’s ear. The older woman’s eyes widened.

Another young boy takes her mare’s reins, so Eadith slides off the mare, trying not to moan as her ribs protest her actions.

Finan introduces her to the crowd and delegates a few people to help remove the packs from the horses and deliver them to the stable.

Hild comes forward and gives her a nod of her head. “Welcome to Coccham, Lady Eadith. I am Hild, a long time friend of Uhtred’s.”

“Hild,” Finan says, putting an arm around the woman again, “is the only warrior nun you will ever meet, Eadith.”

The woman elbows him. “Now Finan, you know I have not raised my sword in a long time.”

“More’s the pity,” he says. “Eadith is going to stay at Taggart’s old place.”

“It will be nice to have another woman around,” Hild says. Her smile is warm and genuine, and Eadith finds she likes her immediately. Lord Uhtred seems to attract such colorful, genuine characters to his service.

“Come,” Finan says with a nod, and he leads her around, pointing things and people out. Her mind swims as he fills it with information. There is a small red church, rough shod and built many years ago. They had planned to replace it, but King Alfred had prayed there when he had visited, so Hild was remiss to tear it down, lest they lose the memory of him.

There is a hall, decorated in pagan splendor. Finan points toward the balcony surrounding it. “There’s guest rooms up there, should ye ever need them.”

Hild scoffs. “Finan sleeps in the one at the end.”

“You don’t have your own place?” Eadith asked, surprised. She assumed he made his home here, too.

“Not much need,” he said with a shrug. “We are hardly ever here long enough to require anything else, anyway.” He holds her eyes, though, and she isn’t sure she understands why.

He points to the docks, and they walk to the end to examine the large ship floating on the Thames. “It arrived two days ago,” Hild says, “delivered by Edward’s men. They tied it off and rode south with no explanation.”

Finan nods. “Osferth,” he says, and nods again in the direction of the boat.

“Right, Finan,” the younger man says, and climbs aboard. Apparently an inspection is warranted.

“Finan,” Hild says sounding annoyed. “Is there one?”

Finan looks up at the sky, down at his nails, and then goes “Hmm?” Eadith snorts at his feigned confusion.

"An explanation?" She prompts. Finan just raises an eyebrow in response. Hild sighs. “I see that too, shall have to wait.”

There are so many tenants, who Finan introduces her to as they walk, that Eadith gives up hope of remembering any names, for now at least. She notices there are a few who look sad and meek, worn by their lot in life, and she makes a mental note to be sure that if she needs help, she will ask Hild to help her identify the families who need it most. Finally, they come to the stable, which is really more of a lean to. The mud is deep and unshoveled, and the four horses in the stall snort and sidle away when they arrive. “No one has done much with them since Taggart died in the winter,” Hild says. “There was a boy who shoveled for a while, but when the harvest picked up he no longer had time.”

There was a great deal to be done here. There were several paddocks, but only one was fully intact. The others had fallen rails or entire sections missing. The “stable,” too, would require some work. She purses her lips, lost in thought. There were many improvements that needed to be made. The horses she had brought from Winchester, along with the three ponies, were tied to trees near the lean-to. She would need to release the black stallion, remove the tack from the mare draft horse, and muck for the stalls of the squirrely horses in the lean-to. The fences would need to be mended so the horses could be turned out, and she would need to start spending time with Taggart’s neglected horses to get them accustomed to humans again.

She realizes Finan is watching her, and Hild, in turn is watching Finan, her head cocked in confusion. All the scrutiny makes her mildly uncomfortable.

“I don’t know how to fix a fence,” she says, desperate to fill the awkward silence.

“I can do it for ye,” Finan offers. Hild looks from Finan to Eadith, an eyebrow raised.

“Oh no, Finan,” she says with the shake of her head. “You will not. If you would show me how, though, that would be wonderful.” But she is determined that she will make this work on her own, or not at all. It is far past time she lives her own life.

She’s not sure why, but this makes Hild beam at her. “Come,” Hild says, “the cottage is this way.”

The cottage is more of a hovel. It has fallen into disrepair. “The roof is sound,” Finan says, “but that’s all the place has goin’ for it. You’ll have your work cut out for ye.” There is a stack of packages on the floor, and she looks at him in confusion. “I knew ye would be needin’ some things, so that’s what I picked up in Winchester.”

Oh. It had not even occurred to her that she might need things when she arrived. They had not seen another settlement for the majority of their ride. She is touched by his thoughtfulness. “Thank you, Finan,” she says. Hild is beaming at her again, and Eadith finds herself becoming increasingly confused.

“We will leave you,” Hild says, “so that you can settle in. Dinner is in the hall shortly. You will know it is time by the noise.” She grabs Finan’s arm, and drags him forcibly from the cottage.

Eadith stands there blinking, unsure of what has just happened.

**

“You’re smitten!” Hild accuses as soon as they are out of earshot of the cottage.

Finan opens his mouth to deny it, but can not, so he closes his mouth and shrugs instead.

“In all the years I have known you Finan, you have never been smitten with a woman before.” There is unmistakable glee in the abess’s voice.

He shrugs again. “Eadith is . . .” he exhales, looking for the right words. Fierce, brave, loyal, wounded . . . important. Nothing quite fits, and yet all of it does.

“Oh I see what Eadith is,” Hild says, grinning. “Now what is this about Edward’s son.”

“Ooch, Hild, that is a long story, and we’ve had a long ride,” Finan says. He doesn’t feel like delving into the tale. He’d like to wash and change, and fill his belly with meat and ale, preferably while watching Eadith find her way among the chaos that is a Coccham dinner in the hall. That should be quite entertaining, he thinks.

“Fine, Finan,” Hild says, “I shall grant you this last reprieve, but you will at least tell me where Uhtred is.”

“Uhtred is walking north to lay a false trail,” Finan says. “I do not know specifics, but Sihtric will go in six days to assist 'im. I shall leave in two fortnights with Osferth and some men to retrieve him and Aethelstan. He has reason to believe the boy’s life may be in danger.”

Hild sighs and shakes her head. “So Lady Aelswith truly took the boy to Aethelflaed in Mercia? I had heard whispers.”

Finan nods. “She did. Ah, Hild, you should have seen the wee man. He was quiet as a mite at first.”

Hild’s mouth falls open with a look of surprise, and Finan snaps his jaw shut. She’s known him too long and knows him too well. “You’re fond of the boy!” She cries with glee. “You’re not only smitten with your Lady, but you’re smitten with the child. Oh Finan, I thought I would turn to dust before this day would come.”

Finan’s eyes widen. “She is not my Lady, she is her own, and don’t ye dare say a word to her Hild.”

Hild is laughing as she heads to the door. “I make you no promises.”

He chases after her. “Hild! Hild! Don’t you dare say a word. It’s . . .complicated.” Her laughter reaches him through the darkness.

**  
He stops by Eadith's cottage to bring her to dinner, but she isn't there. Confused, here walks to the Coccham's sad excuse for a stable. To his surprise, there is light coming from it. Eadith has two young boys, who he recognizes as belonging to the Widow Aenise, spreading straw in the covered area while Eadith is murmuring to two of the skittish horses kept there. The other two are now trotting around the paddock with the wild looking stallion she had brought from Coccham. The two draft horses are loosely tethered in one of the dilapidated paddocks, and he can make out the dark silhouettes for the ponies in the other.

"Ye've been busy," he says softly, staying back so as not to spook the horses.

She turns her head toward him so he can just see her profile, and she smiles as the grey gelding takes another piece of apple from her hand. "There's so much to do. I find myself excited by the possibilities. Will you explain the fencing to me in the morning?"

"Don't ye want to rest? Her ribs have got to be causin' ye pain."

She bites her lip, seeming to be choosing her words carefully. "It feels good to be busy," she finally says.

He shakes his head. "Of course I will show ye," he says. "Now, though, it's time to feast. Once a week, and on special occasions, the hall is open to all who reside here for dinner."

She gently pats the grey as she finishes the last piece of apple, then dusts her hands off. The two boys come  
out of the stall. "Thank you for your help boys," she says, handing them each a piece of silver. Please ask your mother if you may come again at dusk tomorrow, and we will see what we can find for you to do."

The two boys grin at each other. "Thank you, Lady!" They say in unison, and then sprint for home.

Eadith turns to extinguish the lamps. "That was kind of ye," Finan says. "Their father was killed by Danes when they were just wee babes. The widow Anise works hard to provide for them, but it is a struggle."

She nods. "That is what Hild said. I am glad to have silver if it means I can ease the struggle of some who live here. It is not easy when you lose someone you love, especially when that person also provided security."

He finds he wants to touch her as they walk, so he settles for reaching out and running his fingers lightly over the edge of her cloak instead. There is a chill in the air, he notes.

The din from the hall grows louder as they approach. Eadith's beautiful eyes widen. "Hild was not joking about the noise, was she?" He shakes his head, smiling down at her. He extends an arm with a flourish, signaling for her to lead the way.


	5. A precious cornerstone of a sure foundation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eadith lays a foundation in Coccham.

Eadith has just walked into the hall when a boy close to Aethelstan’s size barrels into her. “Oh, hello,” she says, steadying him so he does not fall.

“Forgive me, lady,” he says, eyes wide.

He has hazel eyes and dark brown hair, and looks somehow familiar to her. “What is your name, kind sir,” Eadith asks with a smile. 

“I am Young Sihtric,” he says, “and you are the Lady Eadith.” 

Eadith smiles. That explains why the boy looks so familiar. “I am. What a strong name, Sihtric. I know another man named Sihtric. He is fierce and brave.” The boy’s eyes shine with understanding. Eadith leans down conspiratorially. “Do you know him? He rode here with me. It is very strange to meet two people named Sihtric in the same place.”

The boy laughs. “He is my father!” 

“Oh,” Eadith says, acting surprised. “That does make sense, now doesn’t it.” 

“Sihtric!” A woman calls, coming over to collect him. She is all, with long, unbound black hair that falls to her waist. Her eyes are a beautiful hazel color, and she carries a girl with similar coloring on her hip who can not be more than three. “I am sorry, Lady,” the woman apologizes.

“No need,” Eadith says. “You must be Marisin. It’s lovely to meet you. I am Eadith.”

“I have heard, Lady,” Marisin says with a nod. “Come, Sihtric, let us eat.” She takes the boy’s hand and pulls him away. 

Eadith looks at Finan in confusion at the other woman’s cold dismissal. 

Finan shakes his head. “Marisin, she takes some gettin’ used to. The sun rises and sets for her with Sihtric, but she’s a bit brusk at first.”

Eadith chuckles. “Indeed.”

They collect food and find Hild and Osferth at the table. Finan and Osferth talk of the ship that sits on the river, while Eadith thanks Hild for suggesting the Widow Anise’s boys to help in the barn. Sihtric soon joins them, his wife sitting on the outside of the group and not acknowledging any of them. 

“I received Uhtred’s letter about Beocca,” Hild says now that they are all together, “but he said very little about what happened in the north.” 

Finan is kind enough to begin by filling Eadith in on Lord Uhtred’s quest to reclaim his homeland. He tells Hild of leaving Winchester, collecting Uhtred’s son and then a man named Father Beocca joining them in Coccham before they sailed north. Again, for her benefit, he provides a rather lengthy story explaining the Beocca had known Uhtred since he was a child, and came to be as a father to him. She settles back in her chair with a cup of ale and loses herself as Finan tells the story of their travels before coming to Mercia. Sihtric and Osferth provide elaboration when needed. When he begins to speak of Mercia, he looks around cautiously. He does not refer to Aethelstan by name, and only speaks of “the boy.” Eadith’s eyes widen when he tells of Stiorra hiding them all from King Edward’s men when they came to collect Aelfwynn. 

Hild shakes her head. “I can not believe the King made so many faulty choices,” she says. “What must King Alfred have thought, from his seat in heaven.”

“Oh, that’s not even the best of it yet,” he says. He goes on, continuing with Eardwulf’s attempt to collect his promised bride near the marshes. By the time the story is finished, Hild’s eyes are wide.

“Oh my,” she says. “I had no idea. When I heard about Beocca, I came to Coccham. I did not know so much had happened in Winchester and Mercia.” She turns to Eadith. “The Lord was watching out for them by placing you along their path, Lady Eadith. Thank you for helping them.”

She shakes her head. “I did nothing.” Hild raises an eyebrow and says nothing more. 

The eat and drink while Finan tells Eadith tales of Hild’s adventures with Uhtred. Here, Sihtric chimes in often, since he has been with Uhtred longer. The abbess laughs and playfully slaps at their shoulders, and Eadith can see how she would be fierce in battle. She sobers when Hild shares how she came to ride with them--raped by Danes during the first sack on Winchester during Alfred’s reign. Hild tells them of Isaeult, Lord Uhtred’s strange shadow queen, who had saved Hild, and later Edward. 

Eventually, the hall has quieted as most of the villagers had gone home to go about their nightly rituals. Eadith sits and listens, completely in awe. She had not realized until now that she had stumbled onto the group of warriors that had, in many ways, carried Wessex to greatness. She hears more about Leofric, Osferth’s uncle, and the important battles that were fought to push the Danes out of the south. “Aethelstan has a book,” she says, when there is a break in the conversation. “It tells the stories of the great battles of Wessex. None of those pages tell things as colorfully or accurately as you have, though. At least not that I have read.”

Hild shrugs. “History is not written by those who fought the battles, Lady Eadith, but by those that lead them. The experience varies greatly.” 

“Aye, and I’d never care to read my story in a history book anyway,” Finan says, “although the women of the ages would be very fortunate indeed!”

“Fortunate that they do not have to listen to you, perhaps,” Sihtric says with an eyeroll. 

Eventually, Marisin takes Sihtric’s children home, and finally it is only the five of them--Hild, Osferth, Finan, Sihtric and Eadith. Finan finally fields all of Hild’s questions about Aethelstan, and about Uhtred’s plan to bring the boy to Coccham. They talk late into the night. 

Finan sees her home, despite her protests. “I will not lose my way in the dark, Finan,” she says. 

“Coccham is safe, Eadith, but it’s unknown to ye,” he says as they walk in the moonlight. “I’ll feel better if I see ye to yer door, just this once.”

“I enjoyed tonight,” she says. “Hild is a colorful character.” 

“The abbess is a force to be reckoned with,” Finan says. “I will never forget the first time I saw her, when she came with Ragnar and Steapa to rescue Uhtred from the slave ship.” 

“Tell me about it?” She asks, because every tale Finan has told tonight has been like a chapter from a story book, written with rich characters and bold settings. He is an excellent storyteller. They walk past her cottage as she talks, and somehow find themselves on the dock. She listens to him, taking in the reflection of the full moon on the water and the beauty of the Thames. She watches Finan too, his beard casting long shadows across his face. She tries to imagine what it must have been like for them, starving and devoid of hope. What a miracle that he stands before her now, strong and willing to speak of it. He tells her of Uhtred's Danish brother, Ragnar, and Alfred's house gaurd, Steapa, who looked more like an soak than a man. He tells her of riding to claim Gisela, and how Long Alfred manipulated Uhtred to gain his oath. He tells her of the battle for Dunholm, and it's significance for both Uhtred and Sihtric. He tells her of Thyra, Uhtred and Ragnar's sister, held captive for years.

Eventually, the conversation wanes, and they walk in a companionable silence. She yawns, and Finan leads her back toward the cottage. "That is more than enough for one night," he says. "For ye have heard more of the history of Wessex than is in Aethelstan's book."

She smiles up at him, stopping at the door of her cottage "It is not the history of Wessex. It is the history of Finan, Sihtric and Uhtred. It is not written in any book."

He smiles down at her. "Tomorrow I will show ye how to mend the fence. Ye should rest."

She would very much like to kiss him, she thinks, but she does not. Instead, she wishes him goodnight. It is the first night she dreams of him.

**

Eadith wakes with the sun that morning. There is so much to do. She wanders around Coccham, enjoying the beauty of the river in first light. She finds her way to the church, looking for Hild. The abbess is praying alone in the church. Eadith sits in the back and bows her own head. She gives a prayer of thanks for the path that has led her here to Coccham, with its colorful people and feeling of purpose. She prays for Aethelstan and Lord Uhtred’s safe journey.

When she finishes, Hild is smiling at her. “Good morning to you, Lady Eadith,” she says with a nod. 

“Good morning, Abbess.”

“Please do call me Hild,” she says with a smile.

“Only if you call me Eadith, then. I need a favor, again,” she says. 

“Of course,” Hild says. 

“There is a great deal of work to do to make the stables, er, stables. Is there a family in need of assistance with older boys, or something similar? I’d like to use my good fortune to help those in need, as much as I am able, and it is far more work than I can manage on my own.”

Hild’s smile is brilliant and warm. “I know just such the family. The Widow Bertha lost her husband at Tamworth. The wound of his loss is still raw for both her and her boys, Charles and James. They are becoming restless and I am worried that they will soon find themselves in trouble. I can take you to meet her, if you’d like?”

“That would be excellent,” Eadith says. 

The Widow Bertha was a kind, quiet woman with a beautifully kept cottage not far from the stable. Her husband had been a farmer, but without his knowledge and skill, his boys were unsure of what to do with his lands. The widow had leased them to another farmer in desperation for silver. Eadith eyes the beautiful, comfortable home and has another idea. Over bread and fruit, Eadith offers the boys a job until the first snow, and asks the widow if she’d be interested in helping Eadith with her own cottage. “You clearly have an eye for such things,” she says, “for your home is beautiful.”

“Thank you, Lady,” says the widow. She is a plain woman, with blonde hair and sad blue eyes. 

“Call me Eadith, please. You’d be doing me a great service, for I have no skill at such things and the cottage is in such a state of disrepair, I truly have no idea where to begin.” 

Eadith stays well into the morning, talking with the widow and Hild. She must be lonely, without her husband and with two head-strong boys who struggle with the loss of their father. When they leave, the boys come with her to the stable. She shows them the places where the fence has fallen and sets them about clearing what they can by hand. 

“Ye really don’t like to be idle, do ye, Eadith?” Finan’s voice comes from behind her, filled with mirth. “Most people are barely eatin’ breakfast and ye’ve recruited help and put them to work.”

“There’s much to do, and we’ve only so much time before the ground freezes,” she says. “Good morning, Finan.”

“Did ye sleep well?” His voice is husky, and she feels her cheeks color. He’s leaning against a tree, arms crossed, as he watches her bring one of the draft horses over. She fits him with a harness. It’s strange to see Finan without his armor. He is dressed in a green tunic with tan breeches. 

“I did, thank you, Finan.” She does not, of course, mention that she dreamed of him. That would not do at all. “Did you bring an axe?” 

He laughs. “Never idle, indeed. Charles, James, come now and let’s show Lady Eadith how to fell a tree and mend a fence.” Of course, he knows the boys. She isn’t sure why she is surprised. 

They spend the morning outside the gates as Finan shows her how to select good wood, the best way to fell the tree, and how to prepare it to be used for fencing. The big black draft horse makes easy work of pulling the timber back. Finan shows her how to lash the supporting timber and set the fence. By the time the sun is high above them, they have a second paddock in working condition. Eadith asks the boys to release the ponies from their tether, and grins as they squeal and buck in their new-found freedom. 

“Will ye allow yer poor, weary workers to take a break for some lunch, Lady?” Finan asks with a chuckle. “I happen to know Hild is preparin’ a lovely stew.” 

Eadith stretches. “I suppose we can do that,” she laughs. There is a dull ache in her ribs, which she has forgotten about as they worked through the morning. She calls to Charles and James, removing the harness from the stallion and tethering him with the mare. She checks on the other horses, and then the four of them walk to the hall, stopping to wash in a trough on the way. It is not a life she would have anticipated, but Eadith finds she very much enjoys purposeful work. She sends the boys home with some of Hild’s stew from their mothers, asking them to return when they have finished. She eats lunch in a companionable silence with Hild and Finan. Soon, they are back out chopping and hauling wood, lashing posts and placing them in the paddock. Finan continues to help, but Eadith makes a mental note to tell him that tomorrow, she’d prefer to do it with just the boys helping. She has a good feel now for the rhythm of the work. 

In the late afternoon, the Widow Anise’s boys appeared to help with the horses. She pairs them up with Charles and James, charging them with making friends with the four skittish horses that were left by Taggert. She shows them how to sit calmly and speak to them, stroking them only if they would allow it. She hands a large silver piece to each of the older boys and a smaller one to the younger, and asks them to return again tomorrow. 

Finan just watches. She raises an eyebrow, waiting for him to comment. When he doesn’t, she simply leads the way to supper. She feels that heat pool low in her belly again from the intensity of Finan’s gaze. It’s disconcerting, and yet he does not act on it.

Dinner in the hall is a much quieter affair that night. It’s just Sihtric and his family, Osferth, Hild, Finan and Eadith. Eadith listens raptly as Hild, Finan and Sihtric tell more stories of their time in Uhtred’s service, right up to the point that Osferth joins them. When Hild tells of the Lady Gisela’s death, Eadith finds tears in her eyes. Every story seems to involve Lord Uhtred losing someone dear. Gisela’s death is closely followed by Lord Uhtred’s banishment from Wessex. 

“After all he had done,” Eadith says with the shake of her head. That he should be banished for something as simple as giving his wife the burial she deserved. “Wait,” says Eadith. “What happened to the other child? The son that was born when Gisela died?”

“His name is Osbert,” Hild says. “He is in the care of the church.”

“Another one?” Eadith says in disbelief. “Why do the royals of Wessex so like to install children in houses of worship? Why does Uhtred not claim him?” 

“The bishop of the church is married to a woman who can not have children of her own. They love Osbert as if he was their own child. Uhtred could not see fit to claim him from them, when they love him so dearly. He is still very young, which does not fit well with the life that Uhtred leads.”

Eadith looks at Finan, who is playing a game with Young Sihtric at the end of the table. They are building what looks to be a fort with some reeds. Eadith remember the early days in Mercia, when Finan would build with Aethelstan. She's struck by the longing that fills her.

Hild raises an eyebrow. The others are engaged in their own conversations, so she leans to Eadith. “What is he to you, Lady, if I may ask?”

Eadith sighed. “If I knew, I would tell you,” she says with the shake of her head. “Finan is unlike any man I have ever met. I have only been seen as something to be taken, used. He does not treat me that way. None of them do.”

“Lord Uhtred’s men are an honorable bunch, to be sure. It comes from the hardships they have endured.”

Eadith watches Finan reach across the table, sees the scars and his arms and thinks of his back, thinks of the story that goes along with it. She doesn’t know what to say to any of that, or to Hild, so she takes another pull of ale. Finan ruffles Young Sihtric’s hair and frowns, and then looks across the table to find her eyes. She sees sadness there, and knows he’s thinking of Aethelstan. She offers him a half-hearted smile. The abbess just watches them both. 

**  
The rest of the week goes by in a blur of repairs. The cottage looks less like a hovel and more like a home, thanks in large part to the Widow Bertha. Eadith has commissioned another widow to make her dresses and some pant suits. She had discovered quickly that gowns are impractical for the work she is doing at Coccham. Many of the Danish women, as well as Lady Aethelflaed, chose to wear loose fitting pants. Eadith saw no reason that she should not follow the fashion. The sad little lean-to the horses were kept in when she arrived is starting to look more like a proper stable. Now that the fences are fully repaired, she has set James and Charles to clearing additional space for additional paddocks. Once that is complete, she will start working on expanding the stable itself.

Finan comes and works with them when he can, but he has also been helping the farmers with the harvest and strategizing with Sihtric, who is set to leave at first light tomorrow. They have selected the men that will travel with him. Soon, he and Osferth will begin preparations for their sail to retrieve Lord Uhtred and Aethelstan. The days pass by quickly, but Eadith finds that she becomes increasingly anxious in the evenings. Is Aethelstan well? Will Sihtric be able to find them? What if the sickness has spread to the fields surrounding Lichfield?

She wakes on the morning of Sihtric’s departure and packs a small package for each of the men with bread, dried meat and fruit, as well as a few pieces of silver for whatever they should need. It’s strange, but the longer she is here, the less she needs the silver. She has hired many people to do things, and paid them well, but the people of Coccham are often bringing her things they have an excess of. The Widow Anise brings her fresh bread and fruit once a week. The Widow Bertha brings her flour she has ground, and taught her to make bread with it. A kind older gentleman named Aeselcar brought her a great deal of dried meat after she used the two draft horses to help him haul wood to repair his home after it was damaged by fire. 

Marisin is wrapped around Sihtric when Eadith arrives, the children chasing each other nearby. Eadith tries not to frown when she sees the other woman. Marisin has not warmed to Eadith, and if Eadith were to venture a guess she would think the woman strongly dislikes her. She takes her packages to the other men so as not to interrupt Sihtric and his wife. She does not know the others well, but thanks them for taking on the task as she gives them the wrapped package. 

Marisin kisses Sihtric, then calls for the children, heading for home. Eadith extends her package to Sihtric after she’s gone. “I don’t think she likes me,” she exhales. 

“Marisin can be stubborn, at times,” Sihtric says. “She will come around.” 

“Provisions and silver,” Eadith said, nodding to the wrapped package. “A certain Irishman has taught me those are useful supplies in any event.”

Sihtric laughs. “Thank you, Eadith.”

She extends the letter she has written for Aethelstan. “Could you deliver this for me? And tell Aethelstan I miss him?”

Sihtric takes the note. “Of course, Lady.”

Finan is there, then, and gives final instructions to them. “Be sure that ye take the main road into Lichfield. Lord Uhtred will be waitin’ for ye there. Remember, men, that you will not be returnin’ to Coccham any time soon. Our Lord is thankful for yer service, but if you have any reservations now is the time to say them.” 

The men are solemn but murmur their agreement. Finan clasps Sihtric’s arm, and then hugs him. “Stay safe, brother.”

And then they go. Eadith stands beside Finan, her brow furrowed. She feels such an odd mix of emotions, most of which she can not name.

Finan looks down at her, lips pursed, his dark eyes unreadable.

“You don’t like staying behind,” Eadith says, understanding dawning. She realizes that is akin to what she is feeling as well. Worry for Aethelstan, yes, relief that something is finally being done. Yet she also wishes she were riding with them, rather than staying behind, because at least then she would see Aethelstan sooner. How much worse must it be for Finan, who is used to riding with Sihtric and Uhtred. Finan, who is used to being in the thick of the battle. 

Finan reaches down and catches the edge of her cloak, plays with it between his fingers. “I do not,” he says. He nods his head toward the stable. “Come, I would like to see what you intend to do with that wild black beast you brought from Winchester, now that the paddocks are finished. 

She smiles, welcoming the distraction. Finan perches on the rail of the fence while she spends the morning with the wiley stallion. She gives him an apple, halters him and leads him around the paddock. She puts a bag on his back and lets him carry it. She eventually swings herself up on his back. He siddles sideways, but does not throw her. She moves him through his paces in the paddock, then asks him to start and stop, go left and right. He is surprisingly compliant, so she swings down and gives him another apple. The stallion follows her as she walks around, and comes to blow on her hair as she perches on the fence next to Finan. 

Finan shakes his head. “It seems, Eadith, ye have a way of taming things.”  
She laughs. “He’s no tamer than you are, Finan. Perhaps we should see though. Would you care to go for a ride this afternoon?”

“I will not be pleased if I have to scrape ye off the ground because that horse decides to go back to his wild self,” Finan says, pushing at the offending beast’s head.

The stallion pushes him back, tosses his head, and goes back to blowing in Eadith’s hair. 

**  
They ride after lunch, and Finan realizes he has not gone for a ride for pleasure in a lifetime. In fact, he is certain the last time he did so was back in Ireland. They give the horses their head once they clear the gate and let them run to the woods. Once they enter the forest though, they slow them to a walk. He knows a river nearby that Eadith will like, so he takes the lead. 

“I think the last time I road fer pleasure,” he tells her, “was back in Ireland. I was married to a woman of Irish nobility, and that was something nobels did regularly.”

“Tell me about your mount,” Eadith said, closing her eyes and tilting her head back.

“He was a big dapple grey, a spirited beast. I rode with my wife,” he says and wrinkles his brow. He has not thought of her in a long time.

“Did you love her?” Eadith asks, taking him by surprise.

Had he even known what that meant, back then? Finan’s not sure that he did. Whatever he had felt for her, it had not been love. Lust perhaps, for a time, and a mistaken desire to hold the influence and power that her father weiled. It had been short-lived, and shallow. Finan shakes his head. “I did not. Our marriage was arranged by my father. Before he sold me to Sverri, my brother Connell took her and all that she held as his own.” 

“How did he manage that if she was still married to you, though?” Eadith asks, looking confused.

“It is acceptable in Ireland to be divorced if a partner is to be remarried. I was not available to protest the divorce, nor would I have. She went to Connell willingly. For all I know, she was complicit in my enslavement.”

Eadith exhales and reaches down to scratch the neck of her black hellion. “Her loss,” she says, repeating those words he had said to her so long ago in the alehouse in Aylesbury.

Finan shakes his head. He had always felt anger over his brother’s betrayal, but it had never occurred to him to be angry with her. The idea of the woman he had married being loyal had not occurred to him. He supposed that spoke to how his time in chains had changed him more than anything else. He looks at Eadith, with her bold hair shining in the sun, and can not imagine her complicit in anything that would hurt those she cared about. She seems to inspire loyalty, as well, in the people of Coccham and in the animals she worked with. He eyes the black stallion under her with a shake of his head. “I still do not understand how ye have tamed that horse so quickly, Eadith. It’s the first time ye’ve been on him, but he acts like an old mare.”

The stallion flicked his ears in Finan’s direction, and if he didn’t know better, he’d think the horse was insulted. 

“Ah, but we’ve been making friends all week, haven’t we boy,” she says. “Apples and carrots work wonders, don’t they.” She leans forward to scratch under his mane. It was not unlike what she was doing with the folks she interacted with at Coccham--gifts of food, kind words, and an eye toward the needs of those around her. People were all too often selfish, and rarely kind. He supposed Eadith knew that better than anyone, with her turd of a brother Eardwulf as the prime exhibit of selfishness. 

“I used to ride all the time, before . . . “ she exhales, and Finan feels there will be a weight in what she says next. “Before my father fell into disfavor,” she finishes, and he can’t help but feel that there is so much more left unsaid. 

**  
Eadith scolds herself for taking the coward’s way out. She doesn’t even understand why she wants to tell him about the worst things that have shaped her, except that she wants him to know her. She can’t help but think of him sitting on the floor in Winchester, next to her bed at Ainsleigh’s house. I do not want you to think less of me, he had said. Yet he had shared what he saw as the worst of it with her. She wanted to return that favor, and show him that trust. He had shared so much of himself in the short time that she had known him. She wanted to share the pieces of herself that she never spoke. Perhaps speaking of the breaks in her spirit would allow them to heal. She exhales. “The Eldorman of my father’s lands was an old, disgusting man. He had a reputation for being very. . . unkind to his female tenants who had no one to protect them.” 

Finan pulls up his horse, his dark eyes locked on her, his jaw twitching. 

“My father had owed him a great deal of money for years. His eyes came my way, and they did not leave, so he gave my father an ultimatum. Let him have me, or be ruined.” Finan clicks to his horse again, continuing, but she knows he is listening. She can see the tension in his shoulders as she speaks. “To his credit, my father tried to respect my wishes for an entire year. In the end, though, he told me it was my duty. The dishonest bastard still took my father’s lands, after. My father did not survive long after, and my brother was always quick to point out it could have all been avoided if I had been willing to do my duty in a more timely manner.”

“If Eardwulf were not already dead,” Finan growls, “I would kill him myself.” 

“He was still my brother, Finan.” Instead of answering, Finan pulls up his horse and vaults off. Eadith can hear the movement of water over stones. Finan ties his horse to a tree, so she does the same. 

“Come,” he says, and to her surprise he extends a hand to her. She’s noticed Finan has not been in a hurry to touch her since the night he held her hand, and she had found it rather confusing. Now though, he takes her hand and holds it tightly, and it grounds her in there here and now. 

He leads her to the river, and they just stand at the edge. Birds sing, the water babbles over the rocks, and it is untouched by the ugliness of the world. 

“It’s one of the most peaceful places I have found,” he says softly. “I thought perhaps you would like it.” He squeezes her hand.

“I do, very much,” she says softly. She looks at him out of the corner of her eye. His jaw still twitches. She did not mean to distress him. But again she thinks of that night in Winchester, and the tears that had come to his eyes. That twitch meant he understood her pain, and it affected him. “It was a long time ago, Finan,” she says softly. 

“Time does not ease all wounds,” he says, squeezing her hand again, his thumb carding over hers.. 

He is right about that, but she’s beginning to wonder if maybe being around him is a balm on her soul. They stand in silence, hand in hand, for quite some time. 

**

If watching Sihtric leave was uncomfortable, watching Finan leave is impossible. She hands wrapped packages similar to the one she had given Sihtric to each of the four men, and to Osferth. She has a slightly bigger one for Finan, with extra food and a rock from their spot. It’s silly she knows, but they’ve ridden up there nearly every day since that first time, and she will miss his company immensely. She will miss having dinner with him and their occasional walks to the dock in the cold night. She hands him a small stack of letters wrapped in parchment. “For Aethelstan,” she says needlessly. “I wanted to give him something of Coccham, so that perhaps it will feel like less of a foreign place when he arrives.”

Finan takes them and smiles down at her. She takes another step closer. He’s going to leave, and she does not want him to. She looks up at him, and he cups her neck, ever so gently with his big hand. His thumb cards along her jawline. His touch is full of tenderness and her breath catches. He has been a daily fixture in her life since he plucked her off the ground in Winchester. And soon, he will be gone. The thought makes her feel bereft. It’s an odd and unusual sensation. 

She gives in and hugs him. His arms band around her, and she feels dwarfed in his massive arms. She also feels incredibly safe. Come back, she thinks.

She steps back and swallows. 

“We should be back before the first snowfall,” he says, and then he joins the others on the ship. She stays on the dock long after they sail away. 

** 

She stays busy, but the days do not pass quickly enough. Then turn into weeks, and then a month, and there is still no word. She rides, she works with the horses, she trades with the tenants. She finds someone to build her a long table like the one at Ainsleigh’s for her house. She imagines Finan and Aethelstan in her space, flanked by Sihtric and Osferth, and smiles. She rides some more. Bertha teaches her to cook, as does Hild. Eadith is surprised to find she is not terrible at it. She finishes another paddock, adds three stalls to the barn. Charles and James are always there in the morning, ready to work hard. Hild says they are no longer restless, for they have little energy for much by the time they leave the stable. 

There is still no word. Eadith begins to spend more time than she should at the dock, peering to east, willing them to appear. The chill in the air begins to carry a bite to it, yet no mast breaks the horizon.

The first snowfall comes, and she is terrified that she has lost them all. Of course she has, for how often has anything good stayed in her life for long. She loves her life in Coccham, but she is not certain she would stay if they do not return. She sees Finan in nearly every place she goes. She was making a way for herself here, yes, and even had friends, but it was somehow not the same. She catches Hild looking at her worriedly, but she avoids any conversation, almost afraid of what the older woman will say. 

She is standing on the dock, the sun sinking to her back, when she hears footsteps. “The abbess is worried about you.”

Eadith turns in surprise. It is Marisin, who has spoken barely three sentences to her since Sihtric’s departure nearly two months ago. 

“Finan said they would be back by now,” Eadith says, turning back to the river.

“Things don’t always go according to plan. Sometimes you have to wait, and worry.” Yes, Eadith supposes, Marisin would be an expert at this. How many times has Sihtric left, and for how long?

Eadith exhales. “I’ve got that worrying part down.” Marisin does not leave, which surprises Eadith. Her nerves are frayed, and she is past being polite. “Why do you suddenly wish to speak with me now?” Eadith asks. “You have barely spoken to me since I arrived.”

“You care about them,” she says carefully. “I had not anticipated that.”

Eadith scoffs. She has no idea what Marisin thinks of her, but it’s very clear the other woman has appraised her and found her wanting. “What have I done that offends you so, Marisin?”

Marisin looks at her. “It’s not that you have offended me, it’s just that we have nothing in common, Lady.”

Eadith snorts. “You know nothing of me.”

“I know that you are a high born lady who . . . “

“Had nothing to her name before coming to Coccham,” Eadith finishes. 

“Even so, we have nothing in common,” Marisin insists. 

Bullocks, but she is tired of this discussion. She’s been judged by any and every person she’s ever met, except the group of men she stands on the dock waiting for. The group of men who may not return, and one small boy who’d endured more in his short life than is fair. She’s absolutely done with being pleasant. “We have far more in common than you could ever imagine, Marisin. Tell me, what turned you to whoring? Because for me it was my father. It was not for coin, but for his lands, but the effect was the same.”

Marisin blinks at her. “Oh,” she says softly. She shifts, folding her arms. “My parents died. I was a budding young lady, but because I am so tall, I was able to wrap by breasts and pretend to be a boy. I begged on the streets for a while. The woman who ran the brothel in Winchester, she saw me for what I was. She . . . she gave me a choice. Said if I was willing, I could choose the men I wanted to hump and I would not want for food or shelter again.”

“At least you had a choice. Mine was always labeled an obligation, and if I wished to be a good daughter, and then sister, I would do as I was told.”

Marisin is silent for a time. “Perhaps I misjudged you.”

“Women are often misjudged. We are taught to endure, to do our duty, and then ridiculed for it. As women, sometimes the only way we can resist is to not misjudge each other.”

Marisin nods. “That, Lady,” she says softly, “I can agree with.” 

“Please call me Eadith.” She stares over the waters again. “How do you bear this every time?”

“I trust in Sihtric’s skill to bring him home,” Marisin says. “But I also admit that some day, he will not return. He will give himself to save his Lord, or one of his brothers.”

“But you remain here, all the same.”

Marisin nods. “What else can I do. I am not a fighter. If I travel with him, there is a chance that something may befall us both. I will not allow my daughter to have the same fate as I did, so I stay behind. For her.” Marisin is silent for a while. Then she sighs and says, “I never properly thanked you, for saving Sihtric’s life.”

“Mm, he told you about that, did he,” Eadith says. This is a very awkward conversation. Eadith almost wishes she’d leave, but here is a tie to the men who are not with them, someone who can share in the uncertainty. Someone who has endured it before, and survived. 

“He does not often speak of the things he survived before he came to Lord Uhtred, but he speaks often of his mother and how she died. I am thankful you were there for him.” Marisin swallows. “When you arrived, I saw only your wealth--your dress and your horses. And they adore you, all of them--Sihtric and his brothers. It was obvious from the moment they came. They speak to you as an equal.”

“I do not understand,” Eadith says, confused.

Marisin shifts, and then meets Eadith’s eyes. “Do you know it took a fortnight for Sihtric to get Lord Uhtred to agree to our marriage? They thought I was only out to get his silver. And even once we were married, they do not see me as anything but a whore. Yet here you come, new and shiny and they welcome you. Even the people here welcome you in a way they never welcomed me.”

Oh, Eadith thinks. She ponders that. “These are the first men I have ever met that treat me in such a way, Marisin. They are unique. I think that if they treat me as an equal because that is the kind of men that they are. We spent time together, helped each other, and we became . . . bonded, I suppose. They may not show it, but the value you. Finan said that you are Sihtric’s sun. They respect you, because you are his.”

“Yet never in my own right,” she says bitterly.

Eadith shakes her head. She understands that, but she also wonders if Marisin has ever interacted with them beyond Sihtric. “I don’t know what to say to that,” she says softly. They are quiet for a long while. “May I ask you something?” Eadith asks. At Marisin’s nod, Eadith says, “Tell me your story of Sihtric.”

Standing on the dock in the dark, Eadith listens to a tale of a whore who fell in love with a former slave. He was kind and gentle, and spoke to her as a person, when others did not. He returned to her time and again, until something changed for them both. Marisin, a Christian, converted to Paganism after she married Sihtric, and raised their children as Pagans. It is strange, Eadith thinks, how people sometimes manage to find the other person that just fits. “I found my home in him,” Marisin says softly. 

Eadith reaches out and squeezes the other woman’s hand. 

After that, she considers Marisin a friend.

The snow continues to fall for a week, but the ship does not return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I find it annoying we do not know Sihtric's wife's name in the show. In the credits she is Sihtric's wife. Even in the TLK podcast the actors joke her name is SW. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed. I know this is taking forever but our Eadith needs a chance to find herself a little first.
> 
> More to come! At least two chapters, but I have been saying that for the last three. There's a lot to write with these guys.


	6. So now hope, faith, and love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Winter comes to Coccham.

Finan crosses his arms and stares out to sea. They have set up camp on a cliff to the northeast of Lundane, where they can see the sea, the mouth of the river Thames, and the city. Lord Uhtred had felt, and Finan had wholeheartedly agreed that it was far too dangerous for Aethelstan to be seen with them in the city, lest someone connect the dots and guess that he was in Uhtred’s care. 

Things had, as so often was the case, not gone according to plan. There had been a minor setback in Grimsby, a skirmish in town that they had been caught in the middle of, but that hadn’t been the biggest issue. An early winter storm, with fierce winds and high seas, had hammered the ship as they had sailed around East Anglia. The ship had been damaged, and it had taken a great deal longer than it should have to limp to port. Now Lord Uhtred and Osferth were handling repairs in Lundane while Sihtric and Finan kept watch over Aethelstan. 

Finan has never been so glad to be assigned guard duty. He’s missed the boy immensely, and will breathe a sigh of relief when he is finally safely ensconced in the walls of Coccham. His Lord has gone to considerable lengths to make sure the boy is not recognized, but Finan still worries. If someone sees the boy with them, and remembers, it could be a death sentence.

Finan watches the sea, and frowns at the dark clouds collecting on the grey horizon. There is a crisp bite to the air. Finan is certain the storm will reach them within a few days, and that this one will bring snow. He exhales in frustration. He had told Eadith they would be back before the first snowfall, and he is certain that they will not make it. She will worry. He wonders how she is, what she is doing, and how she is passing the time. Does she miss him, as he misses her? 

He hears footsteps behind him. “Sihtric says I should tell you that I am going to read Eadith’s letters again,” the wee man says. Except he isn’t as wee as he was when they first met. Even in the few short weeks since the boy left Winchester, he has changed. “I told Sihtric that you’ve already heard the letters, but he said I should tell you all the same.”

Finan sighs. “He’s right, I should like to hear you read them again.” Listening to Eadith’s words in Aethelstan's steady, youthful voice sounds far more appealing than standing on the cliff, willing the storm to slow and the repairs to hasten. 

He climbs into the tent after the boy and stretches out on the furs. Aethelstan stretches beside him, his head tucked in the crook of Finan’s arm. He carefully unwraps the letters. Eadith had wrapped them well, and it was the only reason they had survived the earlier storm. Aethelstan opens the first one and Finan looks at her fluid script, imagining her bent over the tiny table in her house, writing by the firelight. 

“Dearest Aethelstan,” the boy begins. “We arrived in Coccham yesterday. It is tucked along the Thames, with a beautiful view of the river. When we came, Sihtric took off like the Devil was chasing him, he was so eager to see his wife. They have two children, and their son is not much younger than you. He looks a great deal like Sihtric, but with his mother’s eyes. Finan has brought ponies from Winchester. I am working on repairing the stable here, with the help of two boys. Their names are Charles and James, and their father died in battle. They work very hard clearing trees and repairing the fences. Today we repaired the fences, and the ponies now have a paddock to themselves. There are two other boys who clean the stalls and help care for the horses. They are also close to your age. I hope that you will find friends in them, and in Young Sihtric. When you arrive, I shall teach you to ride.”

She tells him about the draft horses, and how Finan taught her to cut down trees. Finan pillows his head with his arm and stares up at the ceiling of the tent, willing his Lord to finish the repairs so they can go home. 

Aethelstan reads letter after letter. Outside, the wind picks up, and Sihtric soon comes to join them. “It will snow soon,” he says. He sits in the corner of the tent and sharpens his blade. 

Aethelstan begins the letter about their first ride to the river, and Finan reaches for his gear. He digs through his purse until he finds the smoothed stone. He takes it and runs his fingers over it as he listens to the boy. “Today I rode the black stallion for the first time. You should have seen him--he behaved perfectly, like he’s been ridden all his life. It goes to show how important time and kindness is for a horse. His gait is so smooth, and when he runs, it’s like riding the wind. Finan has dubbed him Dullahan after a mythical Irish headless creature, who rides a black horse. The name suits him.

Finan took me to a beautiful place outside of Coccham. We will have to ride there when you return. The river runs by so peacefully. It reminds me of the river we followed in Mercia, except that there is no danger here. There are only birds, and the babble of the stream, and the color of the changing leaves. The ponies are growing restless--they are ready for exercise.” 

When he finishes, Finan hands him the stone. “This is from that place,” he says. Aethelstan turns it over in his hands. The wind lifts again. Home, he thinks, this is from home. He is ready to return.

**

Eadith is kneading dough to make bread when there is a knock on her door. “Come in,” she calls.

“Lady,” Charles says with an urgency that has her hairs standing on end. “A ship’s been sighted on the river.” Eadith exhales a sigh of relief that the news is not bad, and then breaks out in a grin. Finally, they are home. 

She grabs her cloak. Most of the snow has melted, but it is still bitingly cold outside. “Thank you, Charles!” She calls as she hurries to the docks. Suddenly, she thinks of Marisin, and shifts her direction. She bangs on the door. “Marisin!” She calls. “A ship has been spotted!”

The tall woman opens the door, drying her hands. She, too, smiles, and together they walk quickly for the dock. They stand at the end, and can just make out the mast of the ship downriver. “No one has ever fetched me for their arrival before,” Marisin says softly. 

Eadith looks at her in surprise. “Never?” Marisin shakes her head. Eadith thinks of the last time they returned to Coccham. “How often do they come by ship, Marisin.”

The woman tilts her head, thinking. “Not often, I suppose. They usually travel by horseback.”

Eadith laughs, which makes the other woman frown. “You mock me?”

“Not at all,” Eadith says. “It’s just . . . did you know that as soon as Sihtric is in sight of Coccham, he flies home? It’s no wonder no one ever comes to fetch you. He is the first to arrive, I suspect, because he can not wait to return to you.”

Marisin knits her brows together. “Truly?” She says.

“At least when I came here,” Eadith says with a smile. “Finan and Osferth did not seem surprised by his behavior. I suspect they are used to it.”

Marisin beams. Soon, they can see little lumps on the deck. Eadith could make out Uhtred, standing on the bow. She worries her hands, knowing that she won’t breath freely until she sees them all--Aethelstan, Finan, Sihtric and Osferth. Marisin reaches out and takes her hand. “They’ve been delayed before without any harm coming to them,” she says. “You’ll see, they are all fine.”

Eadith squeezes her hand. “I hope you are right,” she says softly. It’s strange. She has not hoped for much these last years. She has simply done what she had to in order to provide what she can for her brother and herself. 

She sees Finan sitting behind Uhtred, pulling the oars, and the knot in her chest loosens. He’s there, alive and well. A few more minutes, and she can make out Sihtric to his right, silver arm bands gleaming in the late afternoon sun. Behind him, Osferth’s unmistakable rounded haircut. She exhales. “Oh, they’re truly alright,” she says, squeezing Marisin’s hand again. But where is Aethelstan. 

A Danish boy stands next to Lord Uhtred, and at first Eadith is confused. Who is this child? Then it dawns on her that he is approximately the same size and age as Aethelstan. Instead of monk's robes though, this child wears breeches and a brightly colored yellow tunic, keeping in the Dane manner of dress. Where Aethelstan had a haircut similar to Osferth, this childs hair is pulled into a short pony tail, and shaved above his ears in a manner very similar to the Lord’s. But then the boy catches sight of her and waves, breaking into a grin. It’s Aethelstan, she realizes. A little taller, a little leaner, and with a bronze tint to his skin he did not have when last she saw him. She waves back, and finds that at last she can finally breathe properly. 

They pull up, and as they are securing the ship, Lord Uhtred basically tosses the boy onto the dock. “There you, boy,” he says. Aethelstan throws himself at her, and she holds on for dear life. 

The men secure the boat and she tugs playfully at the ponytail. “What’s this?” She asks him without releasing her hold. 

Aethelstand stands on his tip toes and wraps his arms around his neck, as if hugging her there. He gets close to her ear and whispers, “Lord Uhtred said we are not to say anything until he’s had a chance to speak with you.”

She laughs, and it rings false in her ears. “Well, it suits you,” she says, and she finds herself scanning the crowd. Surely there are no enemies in Coccham? She knows these people, has dined and laughed with them now for months. 

Sihtric takes a long stride off the boat and is pulling Marisin into his arms. “Hello, wife,” he says huskily, “I have missed you.” He kisses her, and Eadith feels her face color, for she is eavesdropping on a private moment. 

And then Finan is there, a hand on Aethelstan’s shoulder, and she finds she is lost in his dark eyes. He does that thing where he bends at the waist so that he is at eye level with her, so that she does not have to look up to him. “I’m sorry we’re late,” he says, and his voice, too, is husky. “The weather was not in our favor and we had to put in to Lundane for repairs.” 

She reaches up and cups the back of his neck with one hand, her fingers trailing along the edge of his close cut hair. “I shall forgive you, this once.” He smiles, then, and steps into them both. He drops his forehead to hers, wrapping one hand neatly around her waist and the other around the boy. When he says her name, it is husky and makes heat pool in her belly. 

The Lord Uhtred says her name, and brings her fully back to reality. “Eadith, Finan,” he says, bruskly, “with me, we have much to discuss.” 

She looks at Finan, questions in her eyes, and then down at Aethelstan. Does he come with them? She isn’t certain how she feels about letting him go. 

“Bring the boy,” the Lord says, and she gladly takes Aethelstan’s hand and rushes to follow. 

“Sihtric, Osferth,” Uhtred calls behind them, “when you finish offloading the ship, join us in the hall.”

She’s rushing to keep up with Uhtred, trying hard to pace herself so she is not dragging Aethelstan. “Finan,” she hisses, “what on earth is happening?”

“It’s okay,” he says, reaching for her shoulder. “You’ll understand soon.”

They reach the hall, where Hild is meeting with a few other women. She takes one look at Uhtred and quickly sends them off, then moves to bar the door behind them. Uhtred gives a shake of his head. “Not yet,” he says, “for Sihtric and Osferth will join us. Aethelstan,” he says to the boy, “I think there are still some blocks aloft from when Stiorra and Uhtred were little. Why don’t you go see? Up the stairs and the first door to the left.”

Aethelstan nods. “Yes, Lord.”

Eadith exhales, pinning the two men with her gaze. She’s been worried for weeks and now they are here and acting cryptic. Her patience is waning. “What’s going on?” She asks them both, looking from one to the other. 

“Lord Uhtred just wants to make sure we ‘ave our story straight,” Finan says, hands up as if talking to a spooked horse. 

Eadith looks to Uhtred, because Finan isn’t really helping at the moment. She considers slapping at his hands, but decides that would accomplish nothing. 

“We’ve gone to great lengths to cover our tracks,” Uhtred says. Hild brings bread, and Uhtred hands some to Finan, then offers a piece to Eadith. She waves him away, and he sits, motioning for her to do the same. She does so, but with a huff. “When Sihtric came, we purchased four slave boys that shared a likeness with Aethelstan.” 

Whatever she was expecting, it hadn’t been this. Her mouth fell open. Slaves? 

“We installed each of them at churches in East Anglia and North Umbria, along with one of my men. Each is instructed to learn to fight, so that they have a chance, should the worse happen.”

Eadith shakes her head. “I don’t understand.”

“They weren’t quiet about it Eadith,” Finan explains. “Sihtric stayed with Aethelstan, and Uhtred rode to each church with the boy in front of ‘im, his man by ‘is side. Anyone who might suspect that Aethelstan has been put in Uhtred’s care will pick up the trail.”

Her eyes widen. “You’ve sentenced those boys to death,” she hisses. 

“Perhaps,” Uhtred says, taking a bite of bread. “But they will live a better life in the meantime than they would have as slaves. My men will teach them to fight, and if the worst should happen, they will go out on their own terms. That is far better than Danish slavery can promise.”

She glares at Uhtred, then at Finan. His hands are up again. “It’s just a precaution,” he says, again speaking like she is a spooked horse. “A false trail should anyone look for him.”

Sihtric and Osferth enter then, and Hild, who had been standing at the end of the table listening, quickly bars the door behind them. 

Eadith shoots a gaze to Sihtric. “How could you agree to this?” She asks, thinking of the years he spent in slavery as a boy.

Sihtric does not need to ask what they’re discussing. “The life they have been given is far better than any they would have had otherwise, Lady.” He says softly. “Lord Uhtred has done all that he could to make sure they understood the risks, and left them with a man not only to guard them, but to teach them to fight.”

“It’s far better that anyone lookin’ finds somethin’ there,” Finan clarifies, “so that they stay far away from ‘ere. It’s the only way to keep ‘im safe.”

Eadith sighs, hating that this is starting to make sense. Those poor boys . . . 

“And who have you brought home?” Eadith asks. 

Aethelstan is walking down the stairs then. “Why, I am Finan’s bastard son, of course,” Aethelstan says, like it is the most obvious thing in the world. 

Eadith looks at the boy, who is carrying a basket of blocks. He sits in front of the fireplace and begins building. She looks at Finan, who is grinning like a fool. Hild is watching them all, her eyebrow raised in merth. Sihtric and Osferth are attacking the bread like they haven’t eaten in months. She leans her elbows onto the table and drops her head into her hands, massaging her temples. This was a great deal to take in. She finally looks at Uhtred, who is chewing, watching her carefully. 

“You came across the boy in Mercia, and recognized him as Finan’s,” Uhtred explains carefully, “for you have known the Irishman for a long time. You met him serving in Lady Aethelflaed’s house. Before you could alert Finan though, the boy was captured and taken north by the Danes ”

Eadith raises her head, finally understanding. “So when Finan sailed north . . . “

“It was to find his son,” Uhtred says with a nod. “Aethelstan is not that uncommon of a name, so the boy can keep it, but we wanted to be sure you knew the story, so that there can be no mistake.”

“We trust the men here,” Osferth says, “but the better his cover is, the less likely anyone will think to look for him here.”. She forgets sometimes that Osferth is basically Aethelstan's uncle. Of course he is invested in this.

“Named by the Saxon wench who whelped her, no doubt,” Sihtric says with a grin, "for that is a Saxon name if ever I have heard one." He slaps Finan playfully on the shoulder. “You do like the ladies, Finan, and they like you.”

Finan hit Sihtric in the head with an open hand. “Quiet, ye runt,” he said through gritted teeth, and Eadith almost laughed when Finan tossed his head in her direction. Like perhaps Finan thought that she considered him a saint who had never humped a woman. 

“So he is Finan’s son,” she says slowly. 

Uhtred nods. “Whelped by a Saxon woman without his knowledge, until you saw the similarities. We must tell the story to any who ask.”

Finan beams again. “Aethelstan Mac Finan,” he says, and it sounds almost reverent.

Hild laughs. “Hell has surely frozen over, for Finan has a son!”

Sihtric shakes his head. “I’ll never understand this Christian fascination with Hel as a hot place. It is cold, like ice.”

Aethelstan comes over, then, and touches Eadith’s arm. “What do you think, Eadith?” He asks cautiously. 

She takes his shoulders. “What do you think, Aethelstan?” Had anyone even bothered to ask him? Probably not, because it was a matter of life and death. His opinion didn’t really matter when it came to his safety. 

“Mac Finan means Finan’s son,” he says, looking down at his hands. “It sounds far better than being no one, or at least no one’s son.”

She sighs, and frames his face. “Then Aethelstan Mac Finan, you shall be,” she says. He grins at her, and her heart lifts. However complicated and difficult this situation seems to her, it doesn't seem to bother Aethelstan overly much. At least Aethelstan has a family, even if it is just a cover story . And cover story or not, what better man to raise him than Finan. When she looks at him, he is watching the boy with such tenderness on his face, she feels her heart is going to melt. She sees that the boy has a cross around his neck again. "Where did you find this?" She asks, gently touching the cross. "It's beautiful." Aethelstan's own cross had been lost when he was held in Winchester.

The boy fingers the cross at his neck and looks to Finan. "Finan made it for me," he says with a smile, "from a branch of a tree by the river, the special place you wrote of."

Eadith swallows. Of course Finan would do that. A man of faith, and kindness. "We shall go there once you learn to ride," she says. "Tomorrow I shall take you to meet the ponies.". Aethelstan smiles at that. 

Hild brings them glasses and Sihtric pours ale. “To Aethelstan Mac Finan,” she says, raising her glass, “the newest resident of Coccham.”

Eadith can drink to that. 

**

Aethelstan builds a fortress, first with Finan, then with Young Sihtric, who Marisin brings. They dine, and talk. Eadith makes sure to include Marisin in the conversation from time to time, and as she expected, the men embrace her and begin teasing her about her husband’s devotion and the number of times he speaks of her. More than once, Eadith catches Hild watching her with a raised eyebrow and a knowing smirk. When he finishes playing with Aethelstan, Finan sits next to Eadith, and seems to lean in her direction, but he does not touch her again. Except with his eyes . . . he is watching her whenever she looks, and they feel like a caress. 

She’s missed him more than she cares to admit. 

When Aethelstan grows sleepy, he climbs into her lap. Marisin and Sihtric’s daughter has long fallen asleep on Marisin’s lap, so Young Sihtric finds his father. Sleepy children signal it’s time to call an end to the festivities. 

“Can I see your house, Eadith?” Aethelstan whispers sleepily. 

“Don’t you want to wait until morning?” she asks, smoothing his hair. 

“I’ve missed you,” he says. “May I stay?”

She looks at Finan, and he simply smiles softly. He won’t be denying Aethelstan anything tonight, she thinks, and she thinks again how strange it is to use the word soft when speaking of a man the size and fierceness of Finan. 

Finan lifts the boy from her, and he lays his head on the big man’s shoulder as if he’s been doing it his whole life. They walk to her house, and she opens the door so that Finan can lay him on the bed. He tucks a fur around the boy, then moves to put more wood on the fire.

Eadith watches him as he moves, still wearing his armor and the furs he and traveled in, which he had donned again for the walk to her cottage. “I shall ask you the same question I asked Aethelstan--how do you feel about all this?”

Finan crouches by the fire, prodding the logs with a poker. "I do not know the first thing about bein' a father," Finan says softly.

Eadith exhales, removing her cloak and hanging it on a peg by the door. She mentions for him to do the same, so he does, removing his furs. "I don't think that's true, Finan," she says softly.

He unfastens his breastplate with a harsh laugh. "My own father taught me to advance the family position and make a good match. He taught me nothin' of what mattered, and certainly nothin' of love." He removes his armor and stretches, long and burly, making her cottage feel very, very small.

"And yet, here you are," Eadith says. "I think sometimes we are more than the sum of our upbringing, or at least I hope that we are. You are brave, and a warrior, and just. Aethelstan will need those things."

Finan looks over at the boy and sighs. "I cannot forget that he has the blood of King Edward running through 'is veins. Lord Uhtred thinks that the King may someday call for Aethelstan to be 'is successor, and that is why 'e sent 'im with us."

Eadith sits down under the weight of that, but Finan is not yet done. "Before I left Coccham, Hild told me there are many men of the cloth who swear Aethelstan was born from a holy union, and that 'e is the rightful heir."

Eadith looks at Finan, and she sees the weight those words have on him. He looks weary. "I do not know how to raise that wee man to be king," he said with a nod of his head toward the boy.

Eadith's life has been a mess of uncertainty for so long, but she is absolutely certain that Finan is selling himself short now. "You know how to raise a warrior," she says softly. "What is a king, but a warrior who leads."

He turns and puts a hand on the hearth stones, staring into the fire. "I am no leader," he says.

She laughs, which makes Finan look at her with a frown. "Lord Uhtred may be your leader, but that does not mean you do not lead. His men are also yours, are they not? They follow both you and him. How can you not see that?" Finan blinks at her in surprise, then looks back to the sleeping boy.

"I just want to keep him safe," Finan says softly. "Its...different. I have lived only for battle for so long."

Eadith yawns then, and Finan gives her a soft smile. "Ye should rest," he says.

"Yes," Eadith agrees, rising from the bench of the table. "I must admit, I did not sleep much after the first snow came." Finan grimaces, moving away from the fire, towards her. "Perhaps next time, you could be more specific about when I should begin to worry."

He bends at the waist to hold her eyes. "Ye were worried?" He asks, needlessly. 

His eyes are dark and deep, and she is so unsure of the things he makes her feel, the things he makes her want. She has never  
been in position to want, never had to wonder if it was the right time. The men who had come before had wanted her, and taken what they wanted. She does not know what Finan wants. She is becoming increasingly certain of what she wants, but she is terrified to reach for it. She is at peace here, and she is terrified of upsetting that.

"You know I was," she says simply. 

"I was more worried ye'd be furious," he chuckles. She yawns again. "To bed with ye," he says, moving toward the door. He reaches for his furs, but stops. 

"What is it?" She asks.

"I do not wish to leave 'im," Finan says, his voice soft again. "It's quite strange."

"Then don't," Eadith says simply, without even thinking about it. "Stay." She would never admit it to him, but she will sleep better with him there. Of this, she is certain.

"I shall fetch my bedroll from the hall," he says, reaching again for his furs.

Finan has been gone for nearly two months, during which time he has most likely slept on the ground or on the ship. She shakes her head, scooting Aethelstan over on the bed. "Nonsense," she says. "The bed is nearly big enough. Sleep here."

"Eadith…" he says, meeting her eyes.

"It's not much different than sleeping on the ground with children between us in Mercia, Finan. It's only sleep. It's not as if my honor is in question, and you should sleep in a bed."

To her surprise, he does not argue.

Finan reaches into a pocket in his breeches and removes a rock, the rock she had given him. He turns it in his hand, and sets it on the table. "He liked the letters," he says. "We both did in fact. It helped pass the time while we waited for repairs." He climbs in on one side of the boy as Eadith climbs in on the other.

"We will need to teach him to ride," Eadith says, pillowing her head with her arms and looking at Aethelstan's long, fine eyelashes. He looks so peaceful and young, in sleep."

"And fight," Finan says softly, mirroring her position.

Her eyes grow heavy. It should be strange, sharing a bed with this big man, a small boy between them, but it feels so right. She feels safe, and more relaxed than she's been since Sihtric rode off to meet Uhtred and Aethelstan.

She smiles as she thinks of Finan teaching him to fight. "You will teach him well, Finan. Of this, there is no doubt."

Sleep comes, and she welcomes it.

**

Finan watches her sleep by the firelight for a long time. When he’s sure it won’t wake her, he traces the line of her jaw, and she makes a soft sound as she turns her face into his hand. It is becoming increasingly difficult to let her take the lead in whatever this thing is between them. They seem to dance around one another without really going anywhere. She’s been hurt before, and he must not forget that. Wherever this thing between them goes, it has to be her choice--he will not be able to live with himself if he becomes just another man that takes advantage of her. 

Now there is Aethelstan to focus on. The thought of not doing right by the boy terrifies him. It is such a tremendous responsibility to suddenly be responsible for another human being. Yes, Lord Uhtred and the others are there to help, but even calling him Finan’s is enough to make him take that role seriously. He wants the boy to have a childhood, and friends, and to be happy and loved, so that he will not enter adulthood jaded and without direction. Finan had not found his own direction until he had endured years of slavery and met Uhtred. What did that say about his own father and upbringing? Nothing positive, that’s for certain. 

Finan reaches now and toys with the end of Eadith’s fiery braid. Her hair reminds him of Ireland, and he wonders if his direction would have been different back then if she had crossed his path. Then again, they were each shaped by their hardships, and it is possible neither of them would have liked the person the other once was. He finally pulls his hands to his side of the bed, and lets sleep come. 

It is not a restful sleep, for he dreams of Connell. He has not dreamed of him in years. Finan is standing on the dock, with Eadith and Aethelstan at his side, watching a ship come. His brother stands on the bow of the ship, and it is as if Finan is unable to react. Connell steps off onto the dock, sword drawn. “You should have died, brother,” he says. With a sweep of his blade, he ends first Eadith’s life, and then Aethelstan’s. Suddenly, Finan is on the boat, and in chains. He mans the oars, and watches helplessly as they leave the lifeless bodies of the closest thing he has to family behind. 

He wakes then, in a cold sweat. Aethelstan’s chest rises and falls next to him. He reaches for Eadith again, and his thumb finds the steady beat of her pulse at her neck. They are here, and alive, and he must do all that he can to protect them. He does not believe his brother will ever come looking for him, but there are many other threats out there. He has been bound to Uhtred, and then Sihtric and Osferth, but now here is another facet to his life he never expected. Eadith and Aethelstan represent something different altogether. He must keep them safe. 

Eventually he sleeps again, and this time it is without dreams. 

**  
Finan wakes to the smell of fresh bread, and opens his eyes to see Eadith showing Aethelstan how to remove the bread from the fire. Together they carefully remove four loaves and wrap them in cloth. Finan takes them in, his heart full of things he can’t even begin to name. Eadith is wearing one of her pant suits which she had begun to favor before he had left, in the rich burgundy color that complemented her fair skin and red hair. 

Aethelstan is chatting with her as they work, prattling on about the churches they visited. “I did not go near them, of course, but Lord Uhtred described them to me when he returned. He has lands in the North that were usurped from him, and I wonder if someday we will return when he takes them. Now that Saxons rule East Anglia again, the only thing remaining of Dane Law is North Umbria. Lady Aelswith said that King Alfred dreamed of uniting all England under one Saxon king.” 

Eadith makes a non-committal sound. “Do you wish to come with me to deliver the bread?” She asked. “I usually go to the stables after.” She looks his way and realizes he is awake. “Ah, Finan, good morning. Clearly you were much overdo for a soft bed, you slept so late.” 

He thinks it would be no hardship to wake up this way until the end of his days. “You can bake?” He asks with laughter in his voice. 

“I learned to do a great deal while you were away,” she says with a shrug. “I also cook a mean stew now. I would show you tonight, except I am sure Hild will have something planned in the hall.”

They eat a breakfast of bread and fruit, and then he and Aethelstan follow along as Eadith delivers bread to Widow Bertha and Widow Anise. She greets their boys and makes small talk with each for a while. Next they stop at Sihtric’s, and she hands the loaf to Marisin. Young Sihtric bounds out to talk to Aethelstan, and it is a relief to see the boys are already becoming fast friends. Finan enjoys watching how she’s come into her own with the people of Coccham. They acknowledge her and greet her by name. Even Marisin, who does not like anyone, seems to have forged a friendship with Eadith. When they leave Sihtric’s, his son trots along with them, eager to see the ponies.

The stable is a miracle to behold, given its state of disrepair. In the time since he left, she has finished a ridiculous number of projects, and the stable is practically pristine. Charles and James are already there, each of them riding one of Taggart’s horses in the paddock that Eadith has apparently designated for riding. The stalls are clean, with a place for every horse. The drafts stand nose to tail in one paddock, seeming to enjoy the cold air. 

Eadith presses apples and carrots into the boys’ hands and explains to them how to make friends with the ponies, then opens the paddock gate for them. She leans on the railing. “Young Sihtric has been coming out for a few weeks now, but I wanted to wait for Aethelstan to begin showing him to ride.” 

“They seem to get on well,” Finan said. 

“Which is no surprise,” Eadith says with a laugh. “Aethelstan adores both you and Sihtric, and Young Sihtric is very much like his father.”

Soon, she is handing tack to the boys and explaining to them what they need to do. Finan finds he is quite fond of the fact she stays behind the fence, letting them figure things out for themselves. 

**

The winter moves by rather quickly after that. Aethelstan and Young Sihtric ride daily, first in the paddock, and then eventually outside the walls of Coccham. Finan and Sihtric always accompany the boys and Eadith when they go. At first it’s walks and trots in the open field outside the walls, but as the boys become more skilled they let them choose their adventures and the three adults tag along behind for security. 

In the evenings, Finan, Sihtric and Uhtred push aside the big table in the hall and teach the boys to fight. Again, it seems wise to teach them both, so that no unwanted attention is drawn to Aethelstan. They are of age to learn, anyway. They use wooden swords and fight the men first, and then eventually each other. Eadith finds peace in the steady, predictable rhythm of the routine they establish. 

Some afternoons, she, Finan and Aethelstan will ride to the river. Those are her favorite times. They usually talk little, and just enjoy the peace of each other’s company. Those moments are for the three of them alone, and there is such serenity to be found by following the river, listening to the crunch of snow beneath the horses hooves. 

Aethelstan spends his nights in one of three places--either at Eadith’s, with Finan, or at Sihtric’s home. He and Young Sihtric are the best of friends by the end of winter, and that too, brings Eadith such joy. Aethelstan laughs more, and spends time playing with not only young Sihtric, but Widow Anise’s boys. He is lighter and more carefree than he was when he arrived, and it is lovely to see.

Finan, however, remains a source of confusion. He is always close by, always watching her with dark, unreadable eyes, but he does not ask to stay when Aethelstan stays with her. He does not reach for her, and that too is odd, for Finan is very casual with touch. For Hild, Uhtred, Sihtric and Osferth, there are touches to shoulders and hugs, and nearly everything imaginable. Yet he does not touch her, and she finds that confusing. That thing that happens in her heart when he is near only continues to grow, yet he keeps his distance, and she does not understand any of it. While it is frustrating, she is willing to just let things continue as they are, because she likes things how they are. Her life is peaceful and full of laughter, surrounded by people she cares for. She is safe, and feels as if she is a part of something important. It is more than she has ever had, or ever hoped for, and she would be remiss if she were willing to risk it for that unsettled feeling in her heart when she catches Finan watching her from across the room. 

Soon, spring is so close that even she can feel it in the air. The ground will thaw soon, so the men begin inventorying and readying the weapons for whatever spring may bring. Eadith knows that the ground will be softening, and their leisurely rides will end for a short time to preserve the horses legs for emergencies until the ground dries. This day is particularly beautiful, so Eadith decides it is a good day to take the boys for one last ride before the ground becomes muck as it thaws and the spring rains come. She goes to the hall to see if Finan wants to join them, but he is sharpening swords as Sihtric brings them to him. “Take Charles or James,” Finan says, “for I do not wish ye to go out alone.” She waves him off and lets Sihtric know that his son will ride out with them. 

Charles rides the white mare that Taggart has left behind. He calls her Jewel, and is quite fond of her. Young Sihtric and Aethelstan ride ahead, their ponies moving at an easy canter. Eadith revels in the cool air, knowing that soon the weather will change. She nods to the mare under Charles. “You’ve done well with her,” she says. 

“She’s a sweet girl,” Charles says. “It’s not her fault her master died and left no one to care for her. She’s not ridden much outside the paddock though.”

“Well let’s see how she does, then,” Eadith said, and spurred her horse into an easy canter. They ride to the trees with the sound of only the wind and hoofbeats. Sihtric and Aethelstan wait for them at the tree line, but when Eadith arrives, she realizes Charles has fallen behind. She rides back to him. “What’s wrong?” She asks.

Charles swings down. “She’s limping,” he says, examining her right foreleg. “I don’t know what’s wrong with her.”

Eadith looks at the boys, waiting excitedly by the tree line. She has a feeling this is their last chance to ride before the thaw, and she does not want to disappoint the boys. “Take her back, Charles. We will not be far behind you.”

Charles looks at her in surprise. “Are you sure, Lady?” 

“I am,” she says. “I have my dagger, and we will not be long. Perhaps don’t run and tell Finan, though. I don’t think he’d be pleased.” 

Charles nods, and leads his lame mare back toward Coccham. 

“Come on, boys,” Eadith says, “lead the way. We haven’t long to enjoy this beautiful day.” They pick their way through the densest part of the forest toward an old trail that is fairly long and flat. 

“Well,” Young Sihtric says, “let’s race then!” And the three of them give their mounts their head with cheers of joy. Eadith revels in flattening out along Dullahan's neck, the wind whistling in her ears as he flies down the trail. A log has fallen across the path and he clears it easily. She slows him and turns to go back for the boys, knowing the ponies will want nothing to do with the log. She is grinning from the exhilaration of the ride, ready to jest with the boys about the ponies’ short legs. 

Her heart stops when she sees the big, ugly Dane Heaston, mounted on a bay draft horse and positioned on the other side of the log, dangerously close to Aethelstan and Sihtric. He grins at her, his smile ugly and fearsome. “We meet again, Eadith, sister to the traitor Eardwulf, who died as he lived, shitting himself.” Her stomach turns. “I see that you were so impressed with my company that you find yourself surrounded by Danish pups, now.”

She tries to calm her breath, to think of what she knows of him. He likes wealth, and women. He is a coward and a liar. She prays for courage as she chooses her course. “Their father will hunt you if you harm them,” she says, embracing the fact that he has mistaken Aethelstan as a Dane. She must get his attention away from the boys. “But you can take me, instead,” she says. She sees Aethelstan’s eyes widen from the corner of her eye, because she dares not look directly at him. She wills him to be silent, for his own sake. She needs to draw Haeston away from them, and give them leave to escape. “Their father has grown tired of humping me, so he has me play the nursemaid while he finds another woman to warm his bed.”

Heaston smiles, and rides around the log, closer to her. “See, you should have stayed with me,” he says, and he leers at her, his eyes finding her breasts. Her stomach churns. Why was he here, so close to Coccham? Had he been hiding in the forests of Wessex all winter? 

She drops the reins and raises her hands, making her palms flat and pointing them directly at the boys. Do not move is the message she sends, as best she can, and she hopes it is received. She watches as Sihtric leans and whispers to Aethelstan. Aethelstan’s eyes narrow, his hands tightening on the reins. She’s looked at them all she can, and now she must turn her attention to the Dane again. “I will come with you willingly, but you must let them go. Their father will not care that I do not return, but if they do not, he will hunt me, and make me pay.” She tries to put just the right amount of fear in her voice, and to get it there, she thinks of how rough Aethelred had been with her. She suspected that pain had nothing on what would now be coming her way, if Finan did not reach her in time. And wasn’t that something new. She knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that as soon as Finan knew something was amiss, he would come for her. She just had to survive until then. 

Heaston draws closer. She drops her hand quickly, which makes Dullahan start, sensing her fear. Aethelstan and Sihtric, bless them, understand the signal, and spin their horses into a gallop in the opposite direction. Haeston reaches for her, and she shouts, trying to pull away. Haeston's other hand comes around, and he is holding a seax. She feels blinding pain as he brings the end of it against the back of her head. As the world goes dark, she is pulled up and over to….somewhere. she hears the scream of her horse, and the thunder of his hooves. Then, she knows only darkness. 

**

Finan is sharpening the last sword when the hall door bursts open. It is Charles, and he looks frantic. Finan's blood runs cold.

Charles looks from Finan, to Lord Uhtred, to Sihtric. "Lady Eadith's horse just returned, riderless," he says slowly. 

Finan rises. "Who went with them?" He asks, striding to the door.

"I did, Finan," the boy says, following him, "but my horse came up lame and she sent me back." Finan pushes out the door and sees her stallion, blowing hard and eyes wild. There is a small, but unmistakable smear of red on the furs covering the horse's back. "I should have argued with her," the boy said miserably.

Finan does not have time to agree with the boy or lecture him. She's hurt, and she and the boys are out there, alone and unguarded. "Lord!" Finan calls, going back to the door. 

Uhtred understands the unspoken urgency and tosses Finan his sword. "Go," he says, "Sihtric and I will be right behind you."

Finan snatches the sword out of the air, sheathes it, grabs the black beast's reins and vaults to his back. "Come on you black devil, take me to her," he murmurs, spurring the horse into a headlong gallop for the gates.

He gives the stallion his full head as soon as he clears the gate, trusting the horse to carry him in the proper direction. He bolts for the forest, extended fully. Suddenly, two small figures break through the tree line. Ponies, he realizes. It's the boys, riding at a dangerous speed across the frozen ground. He hears Aethelstan yell his name, and his tone makes his blood turn to ice. The boy sounds terrified. He pulls the black up as they near. 

"Finan, he took her!" Aethelstan cries, tears streaming down his cheeks.

"Who?" He demands, for there is no time to waste.

"The Dane from the road to Bedwyn," Aethelstan says.

Haeston. The pile of horse shit. He thinks of Haeston's obsession with first Aethelflaed, and then Skade.

"Sihtric, your father and Lord Uhtred are not far behind. Tell them Haeston has her. When you get back to Coccham, find Hild, and remain there until we return." He looks at Aethelstan. "I will find her," he promises, and then he urges Dullahan toward the woods.

He puts his trust in the horse to guide him as they travel at an unreasonable speed through the trees. He slows occasionally to make sure they are still on the trail of the ponies. They come to a path, and the stallion extends himself fully again. Finan sees a log ahead, and beyond it a glimmer of iron. He pulls the stallion up and slides to the ground. It is Eadith's seax, and there are a few more spatters of blood on the snow. Not much. He probably hit her to knock her out.

He sheathes the seax and rides on, praying that he reaches her before Haeston can harm her any further. 

**

Eadith comes to as Haeston dumps her on the cold ground. Her head is foggy at first, but she can smell the cook fire and feel the cold, wet ground under her. Her right shoulder is throbbing along with her head. She hears the crunching of feet and hooves, and she finally is able to focus on Haeston tending his horse on the edge of camp. The fire is between them, and to her left is a well-secured winter tent.

He comes over and pulls her to her feet. "I was far too kind to you in Winchester," he says. "And I figure you owe me twice over, for that and then from taking you from your past situation. So you should promise not to scratch. I've been lonely, you see."

Her stomach rolls. She focuses on her breathing, on keeping her stomach from vacating her breakfast. Finan will come for her, is probably already looking. Aethelstan and Sihtric surely would have reached Coccham. She just needs to stall.

She swallows her fear and straightens. "Why didn't you ride North with Sigtrygger?" She asks. "To Eforwich?"

Heaston scoffs. "That boy turned out to be a disappointment. He didn't even try to kill the Dane Slayer. He would not have welcomed me, and I have already once served a Lord of Eforwich. Two, in fact. I do not wish to do it again. Besides," he says, hitting his chest. "I am Haeston and I do not need to serve any man."

She pulls deep into the coy pretender she had once been forced to be. "And how would you like me to serve you, Lord?" She looks at him through hooded lashes, and with sudden clarity, she realizes that she has not had to feign a single thing since coming to Coccham. She had not realized how much she had had to fake, how much she had to play a part, until she had come to Coccham and needed to no longer do it. Now even the thought of placating this man was nauseating. 

Haeston feeds on her question and saunters over. He says some rather nauseating things he'd like to do with explicit clarity, then lists mundane things, like cooking and cleaning and mending his furs. He comes closer, and reaches for her left breast, taking it is his hand. More nauseating words as he sqeezes, but she tries not to dwell on them. She's had to do this before, after all. 

Finan will come. She has complete faith that this is true. She just needs to stall, and survive. 

"Would you not like lunch first, my Lord?" She asks. To her relief, he lets go of her breast and takes a step back. She has bought herself a reprieve. He points her in the direction of things and she serves him soup and ale. He drinks and eats and burps, and she knows her reprieve is running short. She has to consider what she’s willing to do, and when she’s willing to fight. 

“Now, then,” Haeston says, rising, “back to the discussion of what I’m owed. Thirty days of food and shelter, and saving you for your most recent situation.” She makes up her mind. She bends, as if tending the fire. When he grabs her backside, she lifts the still hot pot hanging above the fire, singeing her hand, and swings it toward his face. He screams in pain as the hot cast iron comes in contact with his face, it's contents burning them both. He reaches out, forcibly grabbing her neck and tossing her away as if she were a rag doll, screaming, “You bitch!” 

He’s coming at her, and there is a sword in his hand and all she can do is scoot away, and wait for it to end. At least, at her very last, she will maintain her dignity as she never did for most of her life. 

There is a roar from the woods, and at first it looks like an angry bear with steel claws is charging the camp. Except that angry bear is Finan, looking ferocious and angry in his furs. He parries Haeston’s blow, meant to cleave her in two, with his own sword. “Ye’ll not touch her again,” he growls. With his boot, he pushes the Dane away, giving her space. 

They dance around each other and the fire. “Well, if it isn’t Uhtred’s angry Irishman. Which of you has she been humping? Or has it been all of you?” He goads. 

Eadith is able to regain her feet and looks desperately around camp for something to arm herself with.

Finan swings his blade from the right, then the left. Haeston deflects. “How does she ride?" He taunts. "Does she squeal? Did she compare you to the prissy King Aethelred?” 

Finan attacks in a series again, and although Haeston blocks, he gets very, very close to the Dane. “Yer death was certain the moment ye took ‘er,” Finan growls, low and feral. “But if ye keep talkin’, ye shall not see yer Valhalla.” He pulls a seax-her seax, she realizes--and draws first blood.

That’s when she realizes, with a sudden chill, that Finan is not wearing armor. He had been sharpening weapons in the hall and had rushed to her aid without stopping to think what he was rushing into. 

They dance and clash and she can no longer keep track of blows, nor does she wish to. He has no armor on. Haeston lunges and she screams Finan’s name, terrified, but Finan dances neatly to the side. His blade slices along the Dane’s stomach with a sickening slide, and his guts spill as he stumbles past Finan, towards her. Haeston swings his blade one last time and connects with Finan’s back enough to make him cry out, but not leathally, as Finan pushes the blade away with his own sword. Haeston is on the ground now, gurgling. His death will not be swift. Finan picks up the Dane’s sword and throws it to the other side of the fire. “She’s not somethin’ to be takin’, ye sack of horse shit. Enjoy Hell, fer that is where you’ll be headin’.”

And then he’s striding toward her and Eadith throws herself in his direction and into his arms. “You’re hurt,” she cries, feeling the sick slide of blood from his back. He didn't have armor, he fought Haeston with no protection. She realizes she's shaking.

"It's just a scratch," he murmurs. "Shh, Eadith, it's okay."

Sihtric and Uhtred are there, and they speak to her but she doesn't really understand. She's cold, and he came, and she had known he would, and he hadn't had any armor.

Someone is lifting her, and then she's in front of him. She holds on to his tunic, even though the burn on her hand hurts. She can hear his heart. She is so very cold.

He keeps talking to her. "I've got ye, Eadith. We will be home soon. Ye did good. The spirit of a warrior, just as before."

She tries to be speak but the shivers will not allow it. She just holds on to his warmth and his heartbeat. He could have died.

**

Sihtric follows them into the house, and Marisin appears to help him soon after. She brings a salve that she carefully applies to Eadith's burns. Sihtric removes Finan's tunic to examine and clean the cut on his back.

"You are one lucky fool, Finan," Sihtric says in amazement. "This isn't too deep. If you hadn't cut him so well, you'd be dead."

Someone makes a sound of distress. It isn't until they all three are looking at her that Eadith realizes she made it herself. Marisin wraps a fur around her and turns to stoke the fire in the hearth. 

Sihtric finishes bandaging Finan's back. "I'll go get the boys from Hild," he says, grabbing Marisin's hand and pulling her out the door. They are alone.

Eadith pushes off the furs and walks to Finan. His back is facing her, and she carefully reaches out, tracing the most angry scar on his back. It starts at his left shoulder and disappears into his breeches along his right hip. She does not miss his intake of breath. She can't think of anything to say, because he came for her. She had known he would.

She's never had that kind of faith in another human being. Not her brother, not her father, no one.

It could have cost him his life. 

She traces another, and another, and then she finally touches the scars on his arms, like she has wanted to since their flight through Mercia. His muscle is rigid beneath her touch. His head is turned, his dark eyes watching her and they look feral. He catches her wrist and holds her eyes as he brings it to his mouth and presses a kiss to her pulse point, his finger smoothing along as his lips caress the flesh there.

"You could have died," she whispers, reaching to smooth her hand along the rough beard of his jaw. Every nerve endings is on fire, the pain she was feeling just about everywhere forgotten.

"So could have ye," he whispers back. "We did not." 

He pulls her closer, between his parted legs. "I knew you would come," she says, and she wonders if he has any idea at all of what that means to her. 

"Good," he says, and then he is kissing her, and she is lost. His beard his rough against her face. Her uninjured hand twines in his hair as his tounge seeks entrance to her mouth. She opens for him with a moan, and he bands his arms around her, pulling her into his lap. She can feel him, hard and ready under her, and she tugs his hair, pulling him closer still. His hands trace around her, up her sides, along the swell of her breast, along her collarbone...and she hisses as he skims where Heaston grabbed her by the neck.

Finan pulls back immediately. "Christ, Eadith, yer hurt," he says.

"No," she says.

But he's already setting her back on her feet, rising. "Ye've been hurt, and I will not make this mistake Eadith."

He stands, pulling on his shirt. She touches her lips, her mind sluggishly catching up to what is happening. Mistake?

He stops at the door, looks back at her. "You are so much more than somethin' to be taken, Eadith," he says, his dark eyes unreadable as they hold hers.

Aethelstan comes barreling in, then, running into her full speed. She looks.down at him, wrapping her arms around him, and when she looks up, Finan is gone. She has no idea at all what has just happened.

**

Finan shuts the door and leans against it, trying to get his breathing and his raging cock under control. He's let the adrenaline and the fear of losing her weaken him, and he has very nearly done exactly what he had sworn he would not…posses her. He had to keep control, had to let her take her time, now more than ever. For as he'd held her in his arms on the way back to Coccham, he'd finally admitted the truth to himself. He loves her. He will wait until she is healed, until she is ready. She deserves that much, and so much more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all were in such a big hurry for that kiss. Hopefully it was worth the wait, but alas, these two are complicated. 
> 
> This chapter is nearly 10k words. I hope it made sense, because it's so hard to fit all the plot onto the proverbial page with adequate detail. 
> 
> I am really loving titling these chapters. Each is a biblical reference, but also a stage of development. 
> 
> So, expect one more chapter. And probably bring tissues, because this is still The Last Kingdom.
> 
> Thanks for coming on this adventure with me!


	7. And the greatest of these is love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I don't want to summarize because I don't want to spoil.
> 
> Mature content ahead!
> 
> One more chapter after this. I MEAN in this time!

It takes Aethelstan three days to leave her side. He, too, had thought he had lost Eadith. Finan watches them whenever he can, but always from a distance. Right now, Eadith is sitting on the dock, watching Aethelstan and Young Sihtric play with their wooden swords. She and Marisin have set some fishing traps at the end of the dock. Sihtric is with them, stretched out with his head in his wife's lap as she toys with his hair while chatting with Eadith. The weather has warmed and the ground is beginning to harden after weeks mud from first thaw, and then rain. The three of them look utterly relaxed in the soft rays of sunlight.

Finan is envious of his friend, just then. How he'd like to be as Sihtric is, relaxed and being touched by his woman as she goes about her day. Instead, he watches from afar, an outsider, because now that he has held Eadith, tasted her, it's damn near impossible to forget it. He has to avoid her, for fear of forgetting his noble plan to let her choose her own path.

Finan is making repairs to the door of what could best be described as the boathouse, but mostly, he's just watching her. It's harder to stay away then he thought it would be, but he's certain it will be harder still to be near her and not touch her. The bruise on her collarbone and the burns on her hand and shoulder were beginning to heal and fade, but the memory of how she felt in his arms, and on his mouth has not.

He hears a sound, an interested hum, and becomes uncomfortably aware that the abbess is watching him watch Eadith. He doesn't feel like trying to justify himself, so he looks left, right, and all around before he meets Hild's eyes, and then he widens his is what he hope does not appear to be feigned surprise. "Hello, Hild! I did not see ye there. Is there somethin' you need?"

His old friend just raises her eyebrow at him. "You aren't fooling me, Finan."

He sighs and turns back to the door, working the hinges free.

"Why are you torturing yourself?" Hild asks, and he does not miss the humor in her voice. He isn't feeling particularly like laughing at the moment. He certainly feels tortured, but he has a damn good reason for it. He just doesn't feel like explaining that reason to Hild. Eadith's past is no one's business but Eadith's.

"I don't know what ye mean," he lies.

Hild exhales, shaking her head. "Have you noticed how she's finally brought Marisin out of her armor?" Hild asks.

Finan cannot help but smile at that, so he makes sure Hild cannot see the look of pride he is certain is on his face. Of course he has noticed. Marisin had never felt welcome in Coccham, although that was largely by her own devices. Why she thought any of them, who all had done their fair share of things to be ashamed of, would judge her for her choices was beyond him. Yet it had taken Eadith weeks to do what they had failed to do for years, and now Marisin joked and laughed with them at dinner instead of folding in on herself and her children.

"You should tell her how you feel," Hild says now. If only it were that simple. God, how he wishes that it were that simple.

"No," he says, resolved. There’s no point in denying how he feels, though. Not to Hild. Hell, not to anyone, he supposes. No matter how he tries to hide it, he's fairly certain more than half of Coccham, if not the whole damn place, knows Eadith already holds his heart.

"Finan, has anyone told you that you are the most stubborn Irishman to ever live?" Hild sounds exasperated now.

"Yes, sweet Hild," he says with a bow. "Many in fact, but I thank ye."

She huffs, and goes on with her day. The abbess, unlike Finan, is not a fool.

Finan sighs as he pulls the door off and sets about making the repairs. He hopes that Eadith won’t make him wait too long, for this is harder than he thought it would be.

Aethelstan and Sihtric tumble down the dock is a flurry of swords, and Eadith's laugh drifts to Finan's ears on a breeze.

**

Eadith is more confused by Finan than she ever has been before. He’s always been a little confusing, but now, it’s a mess. Ever since that day that Haeston took her, she’d venture to say Finan is actively avoiding her. She’ll catch him watching from afar, but he rarely speaks with her, and never comes to her house. It’s strange, and confusing, and she misses him.

This is also what she had been worried about, all along. She’d grown so used to the comfort of his presence, on top of the comfort of having a home to call her own, and a purpose beyond humping a man to further someone else’s aspirations. She had known, deep down, that if anything became of the feelings she had for Finan, it could run the risk of ruining everything. After just a kiss, things had already become incredibly different. Except, who was she kidding. Just a kiss was not an acceptable explanation for what had occurred between them. That kiss had set her on fire, made her forget her own name, and made her wonder what else she was missing when it came to lying with a man. She had never received any kind of pleasure from a hump, but Finan’s kiss. . . she had heard that lying with a man is not always painful, and that kiss further confirmed her thoughts that there would be nothing but pleasure in anything she would do with Finan. Except whatever was between them was now gone, and with it, the easy give and take they had shared.

She walks with Aethelstan to the church for morning prayer. In the weeks since the incident with Haeston, they have fallen into a routine. Athelstan insists on spending the nights with her, but after morning prayer he is willing to part ways with her so that he can practice his sword work with the men. The abbess is there in the church, and Eadith resolves that today is the day she will speak to her about something she has been thinking about for some time. After prayer, Hild greets her and Aethelstan. “Will you walk with us?” Eadith asks. “I need to drop Aethelstan at the hall.”

“Finan and Sihtric are showing Young Sihtric and I to fight!” Aethelstan says with excitement. Eadith pulls playfully on his ponytail, chuckling.

“With wooden swords, of course.” She says. “Let’s not get too far ahead of ourselves, Aethelstan.”

The boy shrugs. “Well, we have to start somewhere. Finan and Sihtric fight with the wooden swords, too,” he says to Hild with a grin. “Lord Uhtred says that even the best warrior should practice his craft often with wood. It is a sight to behold!"

She laughs. “I am sure it is, for they are nothing but oversized children.”

Eadith smiles at that, but feels that tug in her chest, missing how easy things used to be with Finan.

She and Hild make small talk as they walk to the hall. Aethelstan rushes ahead, for the lessons are now his favorite part of the day. They hear the wood hitting wood, even before they reach the hall. Finan and Sihtric are circling each other in the hall, the table shoved over against the wall. Young Sihtric leans against the wall watching them, grinning. Finan charges, Sihtric deflects and throws some inaudible slight at Finan. Finan laughs and swings his sword in a circle with a casual flick of his wrist. Eadith can’t help but appreciate the play of Finan’s muscles as he dances around Sihtric, parrying and then preparing to parry. This time Sihtric charges, and Finan deflects, and so the dance continues. Since they started this a week ago, she knows the two men have broken more than a few swords.

Sihtric sees them and nods with his chin as a greeting, letting Finan know the game is on hold, at least for now. Finan looks over his shoulder, but never fully faces the door or acknowledges them, and moves to lean against the table, ankles crossed casually. “Ye ready for battle, wee man?” He asks Aethelstan, playfully tugging on his ponytail as the boy runs over to him to claim one of the small swords on the table.

Eadith frowns when Charles and James, of all people, come out of the hall, from the back corner where they were apparently talking to Lord Uhtred. “Lady,” Charles greets with a tip of his head. “We were just heading to the stables." Eadith eyes the sweat on their necks and brow and frowns again.

Aethelstan and Young Sihtric are already receiving instruction from the men, so she turns, brow wrinkled in confusion. She looks at Hild as they walk away. “It’s lovely,” Hild says, “how those two have come on since you came to Coccham. You’ve done their mother a great service.”

Eadith is still trying to process. “It’s not without reward,” she says, “for they do so much at the stable. Is Uhtred teaching them to fight?” She says in dismay. “I do not know what I will do if he makes warriors of them and they march off. I had not thought about how much I relied on them!”

Hild chuckles. “It’s difficult to say, but I am certain you could ask them.”

Eadith shakes her head. “I’m just surprised,” she says. “They’ve never expressed interest in learning to fight, at least not when I’ve heard, and I truly don’t know what I would do without them.”

“Where are we headed now?” Hild inquires.

Eadith shrugs. “It does not matter, although I do have something rather sensitive I need to ask you, if you don’t mind.” She wrings her hands, hoping that her questions do not cause the abbess undo pain.

“Of course,” Hild says, as they turn toward the dock.

“May I ask what made you want to learn to fight? You were a nun, and then a warrior.”

Hild exhales. “That was a very long time ago,” she says slowly. “But I learned so that I could be of use to Lord Uhtred and his cause.” Hild is silent for a few strides, and then says quietly. “I also wished to never feel helpless again. When Uhtred found me, when Isauelt saved me . . . “

“I remember,” Eadith says gently. “You told me that first night, in the hall.”

“Yes, well, I never wished to experience that again, so I decided I would fight. And one night, when Danes came to kill Lord Uhtred and they were stopped, I removed one of their heads with a seax. And then I vomited behind a cart.”

“Who taught you?” Eadith asked.

“Halig, Uhtred, and almost any of his men,” Hild says, and she sounds sad. “They are all gone now, though. Only Uhtred remains. Hm, I had not thought about it, but with Beocca’s death, I suppose I am the one who now has known Uhtred the longest.” She stops at a stump and sits down. “I had not realized . . .”

“Finan has spoken of Halig before,” Eadith says, resting a hand on the abbess’s shoulder.

“Yes, he would have. Halig was on the slave ship with him and Uhtred. He was a good man, loyal and brave. I miss him still.” She exhales. “Times were different then. We were constantly on the brink of battle. The men passed the time by practicing, much as Finan and Sihtric were just now in the hall. It was a sight to behold, all these big men training. And Uhtred’s men were always a fascinating mix of Dane and Saxon. There was this giant man, Clappa, who was like an old, weathered tree. He was fierce. He was lost rescuing Lady Aethelflaed from Beamfloat when she was taken as ransom by the Danes Erik and Sigfried.” Hild shifts. “You’ll see a more tame version of the training once the spring planting is done. All who are able will sharpen their skills with sword or axe, just in case Uhtred is called to march to the King’s aid.”

“So they all taught you?” Eadith asked in surprise.

“They all helped, yes.” She says. “It’s strange to think of that time. The Dane I beheaded that night, Sihtric rode with them. He was kept alive to give information on his Lord, but he soon convinced Uhtred he wanted to serve him.”

Eadith chuckles. “That proved to be a wise decision.”

“Indeed,” Hild says. “He relies on them so much now, Sihtric and Finan. More than he would ever care to admit, I think. You wish to learn to fight?”

“I think I must, yes,” Eadith says carefully. “I did not like being held by Haeston. I do not wish to put the people I care about at risk because I can not defend myself.”

“Like Finan,” Hild says slowly.

Eadith sighs. “Yes. And Aethelstan. I worry that the blood that runs through his veins will come back to haunt him. I’d rather be an asset then a liability when that time comes.”

Hild rises. “Then you should ask Finan to teach you.”

Eadith shakes her head. “No, I can’t. We . . . I’m not certain that we are on good terms, to be honest.”

Hild groaned. “I see the Irishman is not the only fool. What gave you that idea, Eadith?”

Eadith’s eyes widen at the abbess’s slight. “I am not being foolish! He has been avoiding me. What other conclusion is there?”

Hild turns to her and puts her arms out. “Watching you two these past weeks has made me incredibly glad my heart belongs to God alone, for the matters of the heart are exhausting to even witness.” She points toward the hall. “Finan, Lady Eadith, is miserable.” She points at Eadith. “You are also miserable, yet pride or who knows what keeps you two from figuring things out.”

Eadith shakes her head. “No, no I don’t think . . .”

Hild sighs and looks to the heavens, then puts her hands on Eadith’s shoulders, holding her gaze. “Do yourself a favor," Hild says. "Watch his hands when you are around."

Eadith is confused. "His hands?"

"And ask Sihtric, or Osferth, or Uhtred to teach you to fight. In fact," Hild says with a mischevious chuckle, "ask them all. It would serve Finan right."

With that, the abbess spins and heads in the direction of the church.

It's then that Eadith notices the blooms on the trees. With everything that had been going on, she had lost track of time. There is a flood of memories, Eardwulf holding her hand by her mother's grave, Eardwulf holding her when she fell and skinned her knee. She blinks back the emotions back and peers across the river. On the far bank of the Thames, Mercia begins. Her past, and all of its pain, is still right there. She had nearly forgotten, but the reminder is there. For the first time, though, Eardwulf is not. She has to come to terms with that.

**  
Finan jerks awake. Dawn's early light is filtering into his room, but he knows he is no longer alone. His hand finds the seax under his pillow and he rolls up and out of bed, ready to fight.

"It's just me," Aethelstan. Says, taking a step back.

Finan exhales, tamping down the adrenaline coursing through him. "Christ, wee man, ye should not sneak up like that."

"Sorry," Aethelstan says, looking at his toes.

"Ye aren't going to the church with Eadith this mornin'?" He asks, trying to decipher the boy's sullen mood. Finan sinks back into his bed with an exhale.

"I think something is wrong," Aethelstan says slowly. "You know how sometimes Eadith seems far away, like she is remembering?" Finan sighs. The boy, despite his age, is incredibly astute. He's all too aware of the pain Eadith carries, no matter how hard she tries to mask it. Finan can only nod. "She's been like that all the time, for two days now," Aethelstan says, sinking down on the bed next to Finan, shoulders and thighs touching. "Yesterday, I asked her if she wanted to ride with us, and she said no, that I should ask you instead."

Finan puts an arm around the boy. "She 'as not ridden outside of Coccham since the incident with Haeston. Perhaps she is not ready."

"What if she isn't happy here anymore Finan? What of she has decided it is time to go? Maybe she misses Mercia."

Finan does not want the boy to be right, can not imagine that she wants to return to Mercia. But he remembers Osferth asking her to come here. At least through the winter, he had said. Maybe she was ready to move on? He looks at Aethelstan and can't imagine her wanting to leave the boy.

"She looks sad," Aethelstan says again, leaning in to Finan. "She hasn't been going to the church in the mornings, or the barn. Something is wrong."

Finan frowns. He hasn't seen much of her since she dropped Aethelstan at practice in the hall a few days ago. But what did he expect, when he had actively been trying to avoid her?

"Let's get Sihtric, both the elder and younger, and ride," he says. "I will go see if she will come." He pulls the boy's pony tail. "We will figure things out."

He shares bread and fruit with the boy, then sends him to Sihtric's. He strides to Eadith's, his heart heavy with worry. He knocks, and she opens the door for him. She looks at him in surprise, and Christ, she looks like shit. There are circles under her eyes. Those eyes, usually shining with life and mischief, are reddened, the deep sea green looking dull and lifeless. He furrows his brow, concern growing.

"Hello, Finan," she says.

"We are going to ride" He says gently. "Come with us? Please?"

She shakes her head. "Not today," is all she says, and Finan feels panic bubble as she starts to shut the door on him.

He puts his hand up, stops her from closing the door. "Eadith, wait," he says, and he feels like a horse's ass for leaving her alone all these weeks. "Are ye all right?"

She smiles at him, but it's a shadow of the smiles she has given him in the past. "Yes," she says. "Don't worry, all is well.". She closes the door on him, and he frowns. The wee man is right, something is very wrong.

He goes to find Osferth.

**  
Eadith frowns when there is another knock on her door. First Finan, who had not come to her home since the Heaston ordeal. Now who? She drags herself out of bed again, and opens the door to find Osferth outside. Sent by Finan, no doubt.

But Osferth smiles, and he is always so genuine that she can do nothing but open the door and gesture him in. Osferth sinks down at the table, and immediately eyes Aethelstan’s book on the wars of Wessex. “Has he been reading it?” He asks, an eyebrow raised.

She nods. “I have been regaled with tales of Ethandun and Cippringham,” she says, “although I still prefer hearing about these things from all of you.”

Osferth sighs. “My father made sure that I, too, knew the history of Wessex.” For all of her sorrow of late, she does not miss that Osferth rarely speaks of his father, who was King Alfred the Great. She sits down at the table across from him. There has always been something about Osferth that she has felt comfortable with, even from that first day in Mercia as they evaded those looking for the children. “He was always bringing books to the monastery. I am sure that Lady Aelswith would not have approved. He made sure that I knew the histories of not only Wessex, but all the lands of England, and of Francia and Rome, Ireland, and other places, too.”

She is thankful to have a distraction from the misery that seems to have engulfed her lately. "Did you see him often?" She asks gently. "The king?"

Osferth shakes his head. "I can count the number of times on one hand," he says, and she does not miss the sadness. "The embrace Aethelstan received from Edward, upon his release from Sigtrygger, is more than I ever received from Alfred. The books were brought by messenger, usually with a personal note of their importance."

Eadith sighs. "What about Edward? And Aethelflaed? Do they …" she can't even think of the proper words. Acknowledge his existence? Speak to him?

"Aethelflaed and I have an understanding," he says. We speak, mostly because of Uhtred. Edward. . .Finan says Edward is a turd."

Eadith laughs, and it is the first time since she remembered what is coming that she has done so. It feels nice, and she does not miss that it is because of Finan, even indirectly. "He is an excellent judge of character," she chuckles.

Osferth smiles, looking impossibly young. "He usually is, yes. If I may, lady, he's worried about you. He and Aethelstan fear something is amiss." He watches her and she hedges, trying to think how much she wants to say, if she can even find the words. Before she can formulate anything though, Osferth hits her where it hurts. "Aethelstan fears you have decided to move on from Coccham."

Oh. She exhales, and thinks about how withdrawn she has become these past few days. She stands and paces the length of the room once, twice, a third time. She thinks of her stallion in the pen at Winchester, and how he weaved and bobbed, waiting for a chance to break free. Just now, she understands how he feels. She looks out toward the stables. Her stables, built by her hand and her sweat, and the hands of people she holds dear.

"Before I met you all in Aegelesburg," she says, remembering, "I wanted to sail to Francia." She hears Osferth's harsh exhale, and knows he misunderstands. "But then I met you all, and I came here, Osferth, and I love it here. This is the first place I have been that feels like home since my father lost his lands."

"Then what is amiss, Lady? You have not been yourself."

She sighs. "The only person who had been a constant for me in my entire life is no more," she says softly. "It has weighed on me since his death, but lately Eardwulf is in the forefront of my mind."

Osferth makes a sound of understanding. "Family is a strange thing," he says. "Sometimes blood isn't enough. It certainly wasn't with my father, or with Edward. I do know that when I lost my uncle, I felt his loss greatly. It did not lessen with time, but it changed. With my father, though, so much was left unresolved, and unsaid."

Eadith nods. "Something like that, yes," she says.

"When I came to Lord Uhtred, Lady, I found a family I never expected. His wife , Gisela, she was the kindest woman I had ever met. And then Sihtric and Finan ...

Family is more than blood. It is counting on people to be there, even when it is hard, even when the end is not clear."

She finds herself blinking the threatening tears. She remembers again that certainty that Finan would come. She thinks of Finan's face, confused and worried as she closed the door on him earlier. She thinks of Aethelstan, who still has not slept away from her after the ordeal with Haeston, and now thinks she is considering leaving him.

Osferth rises, and she realizes he is making apologies for having offended her. She surprises them both by walking over to them and throwing her arms around him. "Thank you," she says.

She goes to the stable when he leaves. Dullahan greets her with a soft wicker, and she gives him an apple to apologize for her absence.

Finan, Sihtric and the boys do not return until the shadows are long and the sun is sinking. The look tired and happy, and when Aethelstan sees her walking toward the stable as he brushes down his pony, he smiles broadly. She watches as he elbows Finan and nods in her direction. Finan's eyes search hers, and then he smiles, one of those soft, gentle smiles that makes her stomach swoop. She leans on the fence and listens to the easy banter of boys and men. Sihtric and Finan turn their horses into the exercise paddock for the night. The boys release the ponies with their companion, who is growing fat with the goal she carries.

When Aethelstan walks over to her, she crouches down to his level and frames his face with her hands. "I am sorry I did not go today," she says.

His little-boy hands find hers and he smiles. "It was fun," he says with a smile. "We built a fort and defended it from raiders. I killed Finan twice!"

She laughs, and pulls him into her arms. Finan is leaning against the railing, one foot propped behind him, watching them both. She thinks of what Hild had said before her memories chased her down the rabbit hole, and she looks at his hands. His hands are resting on the fence post behind him, and he appears to be holding on as if his life depends on it.

Young Sihtric slaps Aethelstan's shoulder, ending their hug. "Tell her about the ramparts!"

She spends the rest of the evening being regaled with tales of adventure from the two young boys, aware that Finan watches her through dinner and after, and that his fists are always clenched.

When she and Aethelstan leave the hall for home, the air smells like rain. Tomorrow will be the day. She had planned to go alone, but she thinks that perhaps Osferth is right. Family is more than blood.

**

Finan is just waking when he hears his name. He sits up in surprise and walks to the railing to look down into the hall. “Eadith,” he says in surprise. He quickly bounds down the stairs. “Is everything alright? Is Aethelstan alright?” Her behavio had been so off in the morning the day before, and so typically Eadith when they had returned from his ride. He had no idea what was going on with her, and that bothered him.

She blinks at his chest, and he realizes that he is shirtless. Then she meets his eyes, and hers are a deep green, with no trace of their usual blue. She is upset, but there's also more life there than the morning before. She looks more like herself. “Aethelstan’s fine,” she says softly. “Will you ride with me, Finan?” He doesn’t understand, but he knows she hasn’t ridden outside of the gates since Haeston, and that she has been far away for days. He can only nod, turning to head back upstairs and change. He would never deny her. (He's only in the business of denying himself these days, it seems).

A cool mist is falling when they leave the gates behind them. Dullahan skitters sideways, eager to run after so long in the paddock. She murmurs to him, and then lets him shift into an easy canter. Finan’s bay easily keeps stride. They slow when they reach the forest, and the only sound is the fall of hooves and rain, which is falling consistently now. He misses the easy conversations they used to have, even when the topics were not easy at all. He thinks of the first time they rode this way, and how he had told her of his wife, and she had told him of her father whoring her out to save his lands. Silences with her, before that night after Haeston had taken her, were always companionable and warm. Now they were filled with the weight of the ease that was once between them, lost by Finan’s rash actions.

They reach the river, and she dismounts without a word. She walks to the edge of the river and tilts her face up to the rain, which is falling harder now. He moves to stand beside her, and has to cross his arms, because there are tears in her eyes, and if he does not cross his arms he will reach for her. “What is it, Eadith?” He asks softly.

She breathes in and out slowly, then does it again with a swallow. Still looking up, she closes her eyes. He stands there, facing the river with his arms crossed, looking down over his shoulder at the woman he loves, who has been far away for far too long. Her head is thrown back, her hood down, and raindrops are catching in the riot of red hair. Finally, she speaks. “My mother died giving birth to me,” she says softly. He squeezes his fists, wanting to reach out, wanting to smooth away that hurt. He cannot. “I never knew her. But Eardwulf told me that I was born during the first rain after the trees bloomed in spring.” Christ, her dead brother, Finan thinks. Osferth had said it was about the brother, but given the rain, and her sudden sadness, he is starting to understand. “Every spring, at that time, he would take me to her grave, and tell me that if I looked up, I would feel her smiling down on me. Every single year, he went with me, until the land was ours no more. And I could feel her, Finan. Oh, how I could feel her spirit in the rain when it hit my face. It was like her caress, letting me know that she was there, even if only for a moment.” No mother’s touch, gentle against her face. Only a man who would give her to an eldorman for land, a brother who would give her to a king for status.

"Once my father was disgraced, Eardwulf stopped going with me. When we no longer had the land, I would settle for the forest.” Her hair damp, droplets collecting on the fiery braid. She looks vulnerable and wonton and he knows that he has never seen a woman who is as beautiful as her. “I could feel her for those moments, like she was letting me know that she loved me, no matter what I had done. No matter that she was not there for any of the rest of it, she was with me in those moments, and it was enough.” She opens her eyes, and blinks, tears mixing with the raindrops rolling down her face. “What must she think of me,” she says softly, leaning her head back to meet his eyes, “that I let him follow such a dark path, that I stood by while he died? Will I feel her still, when I am to blame for his loss?”

Finan swallows and clenches his fists. “There was nothin’ ye could have done, Eadith, ye know that.” Her eyes are greener than he’s ever seen them, her pain so deep that it’s his own. That she’d been carrying this for days, with no one to help ease her, weighs on him. He should have been there for her. She shouldn’t have had to bear it alone. “She’s got to be proud of ye, Eadith. For ye are brave, and kind, and true to those ye care for. No mother would hold one child responsible for the shortcomings of another.”

She closes her eyes, lets the tears fall, and he simply can not bear it anymore. He steps closer and wraps an arm around her shoulder. She buries her head into the crook of his arm for a minute, letting the tears come, and then she rests her head there as she looks up. “Her name was Eanflaed,” she says. “She loved to ride, too.” Finan’s other hand finds his cross, and he rubs it, praying that Eadith feels her mother’s presence, for she must be looking down on her. How could she not be? Eadith’s hand slides over the one that is on her shoulder, and he doesn’t know how long they stand like that, looking up at the sky. He takes in her braid, and it makes him think how it is custom for women who are unmarried to keep their hair free. He is glad that Eadith keeps hers bound. He likes to think it lets others know she has no interest in suitors. He’d like to think it marks her as taken, but she is not something to be possessed or owned. He can not remind himself of that enough these days, it seems, when his every thought is about making her his. He takes in her upturned face as the rain caresses her, losing himself in the rise and fall of her chest, the gentle dip of her collar bone, and the way her lips part in a soft smile as she exhales. He knows then that she has found what she came here for--that he mother has not abandoned her, despite her fears. He cards his thumb across the cross, raises it to his lips in thanks. “It’s interestin’,” he says softly, “that every religion shares something in common. The dead wait for us, Eadith, and one day a reunion will happen. Be it in the Kingdom of Heaven, Corpse Hall of Valhalla, or Donn’s gathering at Tech Duinn. Ye will see her again.”

“Donn?” She asks.

“Donn is one of the old Gods of my people,” he says, softly so not to interrupt the mood. “The God of the Dead, who gathers those who have passed in his hall, called Tech Duinn.”

She makes a soft sound, and leans into him more. Too soon, she squeezes his hand before she steps out of his space. “Thank you for coming with me, Finan.”

He just looks down at her, feeling bereft at the loss of her warmth. As if there was any other place he would rather be. As if he could deny her.

“I am glad that we are on speaking terms once again,” she says.

He groans, hating that she thinks that way. Hating even more that while that was not his intention, it is what the result had been. “Eadith, I was never not speakin’ to ye,” he says softly.

She walks back to the horses, folding her arms around herself. “Well, it felt like it.” He had hurt her with his noble gesture, and not even realized it.

“And for that, I am sorry. I had my reasons,” he says as the understatement of his lifetime, “but I never meant to hurt ye, or make ye feel alone.”

She gives him a soft smile when they are both in the saddle, and it is enough. They do not speak on the return ride, but the silence is not as heavy as it was before. Finan will take that as a start.

**

Eadith sleeps soundly that night for the first time in several days. She dreams of Finan, as she so often does. There is a circle of rocks around her, and Finan always stands to the outside. He does not come in, and it confuses her. Finally, she calls for him, desperate, and then he smiles, and crosses the circle. She wakes up then, and that confuses her. Aethelstan nuzzles against her, and she breathes in his child-scent.

The trees bloom, and Finan watches her from across the room, across the table, across the stable. She watches his hands, and they clench whatever is close when she is near. It’s like that circle is around her, and he will not cross it.

She does not understand. It’s more clear to her now than ever before, that he is family to her. He is home, and hope, and the one she will always turn to, always lean on. But he stays outside her circle, even though she is certain he feels it too, and she does not understand why.

Then one day, something happens that makes everything make sense. The flowers bloom in the fields outside the walls of Coccham, and the fields have been ploughed and planted. There is a feast to celebrate, and it is that night that Aethelstan climbs cautiously into her lap, looking very serious. She frowns. “What is it?” She asks.

“Young Sihtric has never been on a swing,” he says, face scrunched up.

“A swing?” She says, slightly confused.

Aethelstan sighs. “Remember in Aeglesburgh, when you brought Aelfwynn and her mother came?” When Eadith nods, Aethelstan smiles. “That swing, in the garden? It was so fun. I’ve never felt like that, except maybe on horseback. I think Sihtric should know that feeling, too, of soaring like a bird.”

Eadith smiles. “Okay,” she says, uncertain of what the issue is.

“I should like to ask Finan to build a swing,” Aethelstan says, “except . . . “  
His gaze drops and he purses his lips.

“Then ask him for a swing, Aethelstan,” she says, like it is the simplest thing on earth. Because it is. If the boy wants a swing, Finan will build it for him, of this she has no doubt.

“What if he thinks I am too old for such foolishness? I am training to be a warrior.”

Ah, now she understands. Those uncertainties from a boy who has not been allowed to have a childhood are still there, dormant but every-present.

“Aethelstan, Finan loves you,” she says softly. “You do not have to be afraid of disappointing him by speaking your mind.”

“Lady Aelswith once said that there is no time for foolishness in the Kingdom of God. And that the only love that matters is the love we have for God.”

How in the world had Lady Aelswith managed to so incredibly sour Aethelstan’s view on all things in the short time she had him in her possession? At this point, he had been in Coccham far longer, and yet what she said still hung over him. Eadith watches Finan, who sits between Sihtric and Uhtred near the table’s head.

“Love of family matters,” she says softly, thinking of what Osferth said in her house. “That kind of love is knowing what is right, doing what is hard, for the people you care about. Love sent Lord Uhtred into Winchester, in exchange for your life and the life of Aelfward, so that he could find Stiorra. Love is why I stayed with Haeston so you could escape.” She smooths his hair, and tugs the ponytail. “Do you understand?”

He nods slowly. “That kind of love does not diminish our love of God, but strengthens it.” She thinks about what Finan said in the woods. “For there is the promise of reuniting with those we love in the end, when everything is gone, and we turn to dust and return to God.”

Aethelstan turns his face up to her then, looking incredibly serious.

“Finan loves you,” she repeats, “and that does not make him weak, or foolish. It makes him strong, and you strong. Don’t forget that.” He cups his chin. “You do not need to fear losing that love, or his respect, by asking for what you want. He will not judge you.”

She looks up again, and Finan is watching her, eyes dark. Sihtric and Uhtred laugh across him, but he is not paying attention. His gaze is intense, his hand clenching the dram of ale he holds. With a little click, everything slides into place, in her mind. Suddenly everything makes sense.

“Won’t he think it foolish, though?” Aethelstan says, still uncertain. “We are training to fight.”

“You are still a child,” she says with conviction. “And besides, have you seen Sihtric the Elder and Finan fight one another?”

Aethelstan smiles. “You know I have!”

“And how would you describe that?”

Aethelstan tilts his head and smiles again.

“Exactly,” Eadith says. “Even a warrior may be foolish, and is allowed to have fun. No matter their age.” She drops her forehead to his. “I think you should go ask him.”

Aethelstan reaches up to clasp her neck, then goes and talks to Finan. She watches as he leans down, tilting his head as he listens to the boy and smiles.

**  
Eadith sits on a stump in the early morning light, watching the scene unfold before her. Her heart is in her throat, and she can barely breath, and she does not understand why.

“Why is Osferth in the tree,” a voice asks, starting her. She looks up to see Uhtred. “And why do you look so sad, Lady? May I sit?” he asks.

“Yes, of course, Lord,” she says, scooting to make room for him. “To answer your first question, Osferth is in the tree because Aethelstan wanted a swing, and Finan is too big to climb.” Aethelstan had been up at first light, excited that Finan had agreed to this swing idea. She had sat and watched as they had cut the wood and run the ropes, and then had marveled at their many failed attempts to hang the swing. First Sihtric had been dragged into the attempt, and then Osferth. Osferth was the one that had been coerced into hanging the swing.

Uhtred chuckles. “Osferth is taller than Finan!”

“Indeed, but he’s also a bit more nimble for climbing, I think,” she says, thinking of all of Finan’s muscle.

“You judge them well, Lady,” Uhtred says with a chuckle. “So I ask again, why do you look so sad?”

She swallows the lump in her throat, which has been there since the night before. She has been thinking endlessly of love, and voice, and about the family she has literally stumbled upon. “Remember, in Mercia, when you asked me if I have ever seen God?” As she watches, Osferth finishes securing the rope. Finan sits on the swing to test it, and gives a great push with his legs. As he begins to swing, Aethelstan jumps up and down, his joy evident, and then runs in the direction of the cottages. Uhtred nods, and she continues. “I see him now, Lord Uhtred, there, in Finan and Sihtric and Osferth and Aethelstan.”

“Sihtric is a pagan, Lady!” Uhtred says in mock horror, which makes her smile.

“I know this, but it does not change what I see.” Sihtric grabs Finan’s feet and pulls him off the swing, and she can hear their laughter and curses floating in the early morning air. It makes her smile and want to cry all at once. “Where would any of them be without you, Lord Uhtred? How much have they lived through, how much have each of them lost? Yet look at them, acting silly and foolish, as if they have not each suffered greatly. You’ve given them a home, something to fight for, and a family.”

Uhtred is already shaking his head, resting his arms on his outstretched legs. “I have given them nothing, Lady. Anything they have has been earned many times over, and is still far less than they deserve. I do not know where they would be without me, only where I would be without them,” he says, pursing his lips, “and that is dead a hundred times over, easily. They have each saved my life more times than I can count.”

“Perhaps,” she says. How many times had each of them saved the other? “But it was you who brought them together. You who brought them here. What a myriad of roads and choices had to come together to bring each of them here?” What would have happened to any of them, if they were not here in Coccham. Where would Finan be, had Uhtred not been chained in the bench in front of him. Where would Aethelstan be, had Uhtred not carried the children away from Saltwick? “Call it fate, or the gods, but I can only speak of how I see it. I hope it does not offend you, Lord Uhtred, but what I see before me is the hand of God.”

“Fate is inexorable,” he says softly, “and destiny is all.”

“Or it’s the hand of God,” she says with conviction. “Either way, it is a miracle, Lord.”

Aethelstan comes running back to the tree, with Young Sihtric and Yaraga in tow. The little girl toddles after her brother. Finan is pushing Sihtric on the swing, and makes a show of shaking Sihtric off so the children can swing. Eadith laughs. They are incorrigible.

“This is a good thing, yes?” Uhtred asks, brow furrowed.

“Yes, very much,” she responds as Aethelstan shows Young Sihtric how to sit, and then moves aside so the young boy can try.

“Then why do you look so sad, Lady?”

Finan clasps Osferth and Sihtric on the back and for a moment they admire their handiwork as the children play. Aethelstan begins pushing young Sihtric on the swing, and the boy starts using his legs to increase his motion, obviously being instructed by Aethelstan. Finan turns, flanked on either side by his brothers, and even from here she sees he is grinning ear to ear. She knows that the life she lives now, as much as she loves it, is somewhat incomplete, because he is not fully in it. And she is finally ready to admit she wants him to be.

She exhales. “Because I finally understand something, and I find it mildly terrifying.”

“Only mildly?” He asks with a chuckle.

She tilts her head from side to side with a laugh. If something goes wrong, she could lose not only Finan, but everything she had come to love in Coccham. “That may be an understatement,” she says.

“Either way,” Uhtred says, placing a hand on her shoulder, “I pity the problem, for the Lady Eadith I know is fierce. There is nothing she can not overcome. And you know that you only need to call, and you will have the menacing Irishman behind you, and more if you need it.”

She only smiles, not wishing to explain it was the menacing irishman who was worrying her at the moment.

**

She speaks to Marisin and plans for Aethelstan to spend the rest of the day with Sihtric. Then she sends Charles to fetch Finan, and she waits.

Finan comes in, brow furrowed with concern. She has never sent for him in all her time at Coccham.

“Eadith,” he says. “Everythin’ is all right?”

She nods, and wrings her hands. There is no going back now.

“Aethelstan was afraid to ask you for the swing,” she says, stepping toward him. He leans against the table, his hip cocked, looking utterly relaxed. “He was afraid you’d be angry at him for asking for something he considers childish.”

Finan chuckles. “If anyone is mad with him, it’ll be Osferth.” She smiles at the thought of Osferth in the tree.

“No one is mad at him, least of all you,” she says, stepping closer. His hands slide to the edges of the table. It’s a predictable thing, now that she looks for it. Something to keep his hands busy so he won’t reach for her. “You love him, and you would never be angry with him for speaking of what he wants.” Another step.

“Eadith . . .” he says, his previous relaxation gone now. His eyes are dark, his pupils blown as he searches her face.

“I love it here, Finan,” she says, and his hands tighten on the table. “It’s home, and I haven’t had a home in so long. I have a purpose, and friends, and I feel like I belong.”

He exhales like an entire world of weight has been lifted from him. “Good,” he says gruffly. “Then stay.” His brown eyes are warm and she can see her entire future there. He lets go of the table, and she thinks that Hild is a genius.

“I realized something today, talking with Aethelstan.” She steps between his feet, and puts a hand on either side of his neck. “I want to be with you, but I am so scared, because if it doesn’t work . . .”

“Ooch, Eadith, you know it would never not work,” he says softly, dropping his forehead to meet hers. And she knows he is right. This, him and her, it’s already written. Maybe it has been since that day she helped Lady Aethelflaed out the window.

“Why have you waited all this time, Finan?” She asks, needing to hear it. She thinks she understands, finally, but she needs to know.

“Ye’ve been mistreated before, and made to do things ye did not choose. I wanted it to be yer choice. I wanted ye to feel ye belonged, without tying ye to me first. Ye deserve that. And you do belong here”

“Women are used to being mistreated,” she says, as a force of habit.

“No woman of mine, that’s for damn certain.” His hands come up and frame her face, and her heart stops. His gaze is dark, and intense, and there is no doubt about his sincerity. “And that is why it had to be yer choice,” he says, his voice brusk. “Ye have to know Eadith, once we begin this, that is it. There will be no going back. I will be yours until my dying breath.” Not she would be his. No, Finan would never say such a thing. He has never sought to own her. That’s why they’ve spent so infuriatingly long dancing around one another these last months. He’d been waiting for her to be ready, when she hadn’t even realized that she wasn’t yet.

She swallows, and smiles at him. There is no doubt in her now. “I would like a swing,” she says, for that represents everything this is. The thing you want and are afraid to reach for, for fear of ruining the foundation that has been laid. A foundation of trust and friendship and faith. Except there is no ruining the foundation, for it is strong, and will weather any storm. Hope and faith will carry you far, but they are nothing without love. And then the greatest miracle of all happens, because Finan laughs and then he is kissing her. She can barely breath as he attacks her mouth, bent neatly at the waist so he’s at her level. And then somehow her toes are no longer on the ground as he stands to his full height. She feels as if she’s trying to climb out of her skin and into his, and this is just a kiss. It’s a kiss that goes on and on until she’s breathless.

When he finally pulls away, his eyes nearly black, pupils blown. He’s breathing as hard as she is. He captures her chin and raises her face to meet his. “Marry me,” he says. “Marry me first, that way you know I mean it. From this day until my last, Eadith, I am yours.”

“You don’t have to,” she says. “I know.”

“I want to,” he says, “Before God. I have nothin’ to offer ye, but . . .”

She nods. Once, a good match was the only she would have considered, but now it was enough to be his woman. More than enough to be his wife. Not owned, not taken, only given. “Yes, Finan. Yes”. He kisses her, long and hard. "I'll marry you, but we will not wait. We've waited long enough, don't you think."

He frames her face with his hands, dropping his forehead to hers. "You're sure?" She nods, and that is enough for him. He is everywhere at once, hands, and mouth and tongue. He unfastens the belt at her waist, unlaces the ties at her back and slides her clothes down as if he has been doing this his whole life.

Finan skims his hands from her hips up her torso and cups the fullness of her breasts, drawing a moan for Eadith. His thumbs find her nipples as he kisses her, the dips his head, his beard burning an erotic trail as he kisses down her neck, into the hollow of her collar bone. She drops her head back, her hands caressing across his shoulders and into his hair. The roughness of his beard across her breast, her nipple has her moaning again, the contrast of warm heat of his mouth as he laves one nipple before skimming a trail to the other has her seeing stars.

He's already outdone every other man she's ever been with, and he hasn't even begun. He releases her other breast as he wraps his arms right around her, lifting her effortlessly, bringing her to eye level as he kisses her again and walks with her to her bed. His beard chafes her skin and she welcomes it, opening her mouth to his as their tongues tangle.

He lowers her to the bed then stands back and looks at her as he undoes the laces on his breeches.she misses the heat of him, but she can't help but watch. He's so big, all height and muscle and hair. She watches the play of his muscles as he lowers his breeches, taking in the dark hair that narrows across his belly. Finan is a fine looking man. He is fierce and kind, and more than she ever could have hoped for. He stands before her then, in all his naked splendor, and he drinks her in as she does him, his eyes dark and intense. He comes over her then, and even though she knows he would never hurt her, there is a part of her that tenses, for it has never not hurt. But Finan kisses her mouth, then works his way down her body again, the delicious scape of beard followed by his tongue. He takes his big hands and gently parts her legs, settling himself there. He rubs his face along her inner thigh, his beard rough against her sensitive flesh, and then his mouth is on her and all coherent thought ceases to exist for Eadith. There is only Finan, his tongue bringing her pleasure she didn’t even know was possible, his fingers parting her as he takes her higher still. She has his hands in his hair, and her legs over his shoulders and she is wanton as she bucks against him but it is so good. She did not know it could be like this. He takes her higher than she thought was possible, but she is no longer afraid because, again, this is Finan. She shatters with a moan around him, and as she surfaces from the pleasure, he slides up her again, his beard leaving a trail of wetness as he goes. Her wetness, she realizes. When he kisses her, she can taste the tang of herself as she feels him, hard and thick against her thigh. He kisses her again, then frames her face with his, holding her eyes as he slides home into her, his name a moan on her lips. He fills her, and she clings to him, and she realizes he is right. There is no going back from this. From now until her last breath, she is his, and he is hers. She comes undone again, then watches, mesmerized, as her warrior, deadly and fierce, lets her name out on a moan as he closes his eyes and comes undone for her, in her.

**  
When she wakes, she is on her side, and Finan is pressed around her, his breath steady in her ear, his arms wrapped around her, and his legs tangled in hers. As she begins to wake, she pushes back against him out of habit, craving to be closer. She knows when he comes awake not only by the sudden twitch of his cock at her backside, but also from his thumb, which begins lazily stroking her nipple. He breathes a good morning into her ear, his beard scraping the sensitive flesh of her neck, then takes her ear in his mouth. She pushes back against him, hard, with her ass, and that earns her a moan. He rolls, and pulls her with him so that she is on top of him. He kisses her, and kisses her, until she’s forgotten her own name. Then he lifts her, opening her thighs, and he pulls her down on him, sliding into her heat. She exhales in surprise, and he palms her breasts. “Ride me Eadith, as ye ride that wild beast of yers. You set the pace. His thumbs skate her nipples, and she finds she likes this very, very much. She looks into his eyes the entire time, until they are both falling again.

\---

They are married that afternoon, by Uhtred, with Hild saying the prayers. Eadith blushes, probably feeling remiss about being in a church after all the ways they’d had each other since the day before, but Finan does not mind. She is beautiful in a blue dress that compliments her eyes. Aethelstan stands next to her, grinning up at the two of them as Uhtred wraps their hands and says the words. Hild prays over them, and then he kisses her, waving a hand to Aethelstan so that he can come be the sandwich in their embrace. Eadith whispers her love into both of their ears, and Finan feels his heart may burst. He never imagined he could have all this.


	8. I will create rivers in the dry wasteland

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eadith and Finan have a life, and it is a beautiful thing.

The sun shines through the boughs of the trees, warming Finan's face as he leans against the oak. The breeze cools them on what would otherwise be a hot day as Eadith rests against him. He's taken down her fiery hair from it's braid and is toying with the loose locks with one hand. The other is wrapped around her, his hand resting near the steady beat of her heart. She is utterly relaxed against him as they revel in the peace of the river tumbling on its journey to meet the Thames. 

Tomorrow Lord Uhtred and his household guard will ride for Mercia. Lady Aethelflaed has called, and Finan knows that his Lord will answer Mercia's call. It is his duty to ride with him, and he finds himself torn. It has been a quiet winter and spring, and now summer is beginning. He should be growing bored with the tedium of training and planting and the busy work of Coccham, as he always does at this time of year, but he finds himself mourning the loss of the tedium today. Eadith will stay in Coccham, for Lord Uhtred has decided (and Finan whole-heartedly agrees) that Aethelstan is safest in Coccham's fortified walls, where no one suspects him to be. Eadith would ride with them, but she is unwilling to leave the boy behind, and again Finan agrees.

He nuzzles into her hair, threading his fingers again through the loose flames as he feels the steady rise and fall of her chest, the thrum of her heart against his palm. He understands now why Sihtric can no longer contain himself when Coccham comes into sight over that last hill. Finan is going to miss his wife, miss waking with her wrapped around him, or she him. He's going to miss the way she smiles at Aethelstan at breakfast and the flush her cheeks carry after a long gallop. He knows that he must go, for he is a warrior, but there is a part of him that longs to stay. He must be getting old, he thinks with a chuckle.

Eadith tilts her head back into the crook of his arm and opens her spectacular eyes. They are a deep blue today, a sure sign of her relaxation after a morning of debauchery, a picnic and ale by the river, and now their lazy afternoon basking in peace and each other. "What's so funny?" She asks, reaching up to run her fingers through his beard, scratching his chin as if he is an old cat.

He just shakes his head, thinking he might purr if he were as he kisses her, slow and deep.

She moves her hand along his jaw, rubbing into his beard as has become her way. She pulls back, holds his gaze. "I have something to tell you, Finan," she says, her eyes sparkling.

"Ye love me," he said, "and all men pale in comparison," he says with a grin, kissing her again.

He feels her lips pull up in a smile under his lips. She moves his mouth from his enough to say, "Yes of course, but..."

He loves throwing her off her train of thought, loves distracting her . . . loves her. "Ye will think of me every night, and reach for herself in the dark," he says playfully, "and. . ."

"Finan!" She laughs, and kisses him before he can describe to her in lewd detail what he hopes she'll do while he's gone, what he will be thinking of her doing. 

Her mouth is warm and welcoming, so he closes his eyes and just loses himself in her. He doesn't know when he will next hold her or kiss her after they ride away tomorrow. Life by the sword is unpredictable, after all. Just as he's thinking they may have to break their no humping by the river rule, she takes her hand and slides it over his, which is still wrapped around her and is cradling her face. She wraps her fingers around his and pulls his hand down. He's certain she's reached the same conclusion about the no humping by the river rule, but then she stops theirs hands over her stomach and splays both their hands there, his hand flat against the softly rounded plane of her belly. His eyes fly open as understanding dawns.

She is smiling up at him and, Christ, she is serious. "Eadith," he says softly, unable to believe this news. "Yer certain?"

She leaves his hand on her belly and frames his face. "There has been no interruption in our time together for my monthly, Finan. Not once since we were wed. So yes, I am sure."

"A child," he says in disbelief, his hand smoothing over her stomach.

She nods and kisses him again. "Near Christmas I expect."

He laughs and kisses her again. "Another child," he corrects, and then lifts his cross to his lips, thanking the good Lord for the good fortune that has found him. He spends the rest of the afternoon kissing her, loving her. A child, he thinks again in wonder, made from her and from him, someone to love properly from the very beginning.

They stay until the shadows grow long. When it is time to go, he runs his fingers through her hair and begins making two plaits from each side of her head, then brings them together in a large braid that runs down her back. "This is how the warriors in my tribe wore their hair," he says gently. There is very little from that time that he carries with him, but he is always surprised when things surface, and that he wants to share it with her. "Although you do not ride with us, you are with me," he says as he nuzzles her ear. "And staying behind is important, for Aethelstan must be protected."

She hums in agreement, and in a way it terrifies him how readily she accepts this fact. There is nothing she won't do for the boy. She has already put herself in direct danger once to save him. He fears the things that could happen while he is away. Uhtred has agreed to leave five of the household guard, but it is not the same as being there himself. 

He ties off the braid and she turns to face him, framing his face with her hands. ‘It will be okay, Finan. We will be waiting for your return." She smiles again. “Although if you are gone too long, you may not recognize me when you return, for I will be fat.”

He smiles, imagining her belly round with his wee babe, and the thought makes him grow hard. But the day is nearly done, so he kisses her one last time, dropping his forehead to hers. "The spirit of a warrior," he reiterates. She is brave and fierce, and he is hers until the very end.

When they return to Coccham, they find Aethelstan sitting cross-legged under the great oak with Osferth, while Young Sihtric and Yagara take turns on the swing. There is an array of books and parchment spread between the two Saxons, who shared far more than blood. They were bonded by their shared experience of being raised in a monastery and denied a true family, although Osferth had never received any form of acknowledgement from Alfred, while Aethelstan had at least a few moments to speak of with King Edward. 

Aethelstan waves when he sees them, and jumps up, racing toward them. Finan pulls his foot from the stirrup, knowing what the boy will want. Aethelstan reaches up, entwines his arm with Finan, and uses the stirrup to boost himself into the saddle in front of Finan. “I thought for certain you two were going to forget to come home,” he admonishes. “Osferth was helping me write a letter for Lady Aelfwynn. I should like to see her, are you sure I can’t come?”

“You know you cannot,” Eadith says, turning Dullahan toward the stables, “and you know why.”

“No one cares who I am,” Aethelstan says sullenly. 

“And that way it shall remain,” Finan says with a pull of the boy’s ponytail. “Fer that means yer safe here.” He leans down, close to Aethelstan’s ear so that only he can hear. “Plus I am dependin’ on ye to keep Eadith out of trouble and safe. It’s a full time job, that, but I know yer up to the task.”

Aethelstan turns his face up to Finan and grins. “Okay, Finan. For Eadith,” he says. Christ, but Finan loves this boy. He had come a long way since joining them in Coccham, but in these last few months since he and Eadith had wed, Aethelstan had really become bold and precocious, as a child his age should be. He doted after Yagara and sought adventure with Young Sihtric. He sometimes rode his pony too fast or climbed too high in the tree. He took risks, yet looked out for those he cared about. Finan had underestimated how much being a part of a true family unit would impact the boy, but when he built the loft for him in Eadith’s house, and Aethelstan had a space that was truly his own, it seemed to unlock something in the wee man. Finan, himself, found that the permanence of the three of them living together was . . .freeing. There was the certainty of knowing Eadith would be beside him when he woke up, that Aethelstan would slide down the loft ladder with sleepy eyes and come sit beside him, or climb between them in the bed that Finan had not known he had needed in his life, but now could not imagine being without. 

Aethelstan fed the other horses while Finan and Eadith rubbed down their mounts. Both Finan and Sihtric kept their horses here now, for they rode out often with the boys. Yagara was starting to cry that she wanted to go with them, and occasionally Aethelstan or Sihtric would ride around the paddock with the little girl in front of them, or she would ride in front of her father. They went to the hall for a feast with all of Uhtred’s men, for tomorrow they would ride to Aegelsberg. Eadith stayed close by his side all night, and she seemed to be forever touching him. His hand, his shoulder, her thigh pressed against his at dinner. He understood that, and also found it frustrating, for they would not be alone again until he returned. He would not enjoy the warmth of her wrapped around him until then, and if that was not reason to return home safely, he did not know what was. 

**  
Eadith watches the men and the air of celebration as they dine, and feels her heart growing heavy. They are warriors, and they live to ride and fight. She watches Marisin, who looks similarly serious. Were it not for Aethelstan, Eadith has no doubt that she would ride off with them, even in her current condition. She thinks of the Danish woman, Brida, belly swollen with child and still riding, fighting in Winchester. She is not a Dane, but she does not like the idea of Finan riding where she can not follow. So she touches him as much as she can, and says prayer after prayer that he will return to her. The night ends earlier than it usually would, and she is grateful for the return to their home, just the three of them. Well, four now, she supposes, and rubs her belly with a soft smile. Will it be a boy or a girl? Will he or she have Finan’s dark eyes, or his smile? Finan is watching her, then, eyes dark, as if he knows what she is thinking. He opens the door, and when Aethelstan goes inside, he pulls her against him and kisses her, hard and hot and long. When they finally separate, it’s because Aethelstan has peaked back out the door to see what is keeping them, and they are both breathing heavily. Aethelstan just shakes his head and goes back inside without a word. 

The boy asks to sleep between them, something he has not done since Finan built the loft for him. Eadith simply scoots over, making room for Aethelstan between them. Finan is laying on his back, shirtless, his big arm pillowing his head. Aethelstan curls up next to him, his head on Finan’s shoulder, and Eadith watches as the other big arm wraps around the boy and holds him tight. Finan drops a kiss on the child’s head, and she thinks about how her father so rarely showed affection to her or Eardwulf. Perhaps, if he had held them as Finan holds Aethelstan now, their course would have been different. Perhaps they would have understood how to love one another without causing pain. Finan looks over at her over Aethelstan’s head, and she scoots closer, running her fingers through his beard at his jaw. He gives a soft groan of contentment, turns and kisses her fingers, and closes his eyes. She keeps moving along his jaw long after he falls asleep, soaking up as much of his as she can to sustain her over the interminable period without him that yawns ahead. Sleep eludes her, and she does not mind, because Finan is still there. 

**

Finan is surprised how hard it is to ride away from her in the morning, but he knows she is not alone. Marisin stands beside Eadith as the men ride out, her own belly growing round with child. Sihtric gives his wife one last longing look and then waves to Young Sihtric and Yagara, who stand with Aethelstan, James and Charles. Charles and James, with Uhtred’s blessing, have sworn themselves as Eadith’s protectors. The boys have become reasonably proficient with axe and sword, so he rests easier knowing they will watch over his family. Aethelstan holds Finan's eyes until he must turn away, and Finan feels a swell of pride in the love and conviction and strength he sees in the boy’s sun-bronzed face. He knows that the wee man, who is becoming relatively proficient with a wooden sword and staff, would do whatever he could to protect Eadith, just as she would do the same. She, too, has been learning to fight, although she has much to learn. 

As they ride through the gates of Coccham, Finan gives thanks for King Alfred’s idea of burhs. The departed king had prompted all of his Ealdormen to create fortified walls around the burhs, creating a stronghold against the enemy to protect the harvest and the people within. Eadith and Aethelstan would be safe until their return. He brings his cross to his lips and wills it to be true. Uhtred spurs his horse into a canter, and with a glance at Finan, who gives a nod, they leave Coccham behind them.

**

There is unrest in Mercia. The witan is pressing Aethelflaed to make a match for Aelfwynn, but there are still no obvious choices. Finan watches as his Lord struggles with his feelings for Aethelflaed, as they try to make the right choice for both her, for the child, and for Mercia. Aelfwynn is just a wee lass, not yet 10, and Finan can not imagine her married to man twice or three times her age. She, like Aethelstan, is a child, and should enjoy being a child without a kingdom riding on her shoulders. Yet he knows that Aethelflaed was only a few years older when she was betrothed to Aethelred, and that Aethelred was cruel to her. He sits with Osferth and Sihtric, and he watches, and they all wait, and wait, and wait. The unrest grows, but there is no fighting, only words. In the end, it is no short visit, nor is the outcome an easy one. 

Osferth delivers Aethelstan’s letter to Aelfwynn. Finan sits with the girl and tells her about Eadith and Aethelstan and the life they share in Coccham. Aelfwynn nods, and he notices she still has the King of Nowhere, and that he goes most places with the girl. He wishes that the cousins could know each other, play together as they had at Saltwick for the short time they were together, but it is not meant to be. Royal blood means sacrifice, and for the first time, Finan begins to give thanks that Aelswith had tampered with Aethelstan’s childhood, for he now enjoys a normal childhood, with friends and laughter and love. Aelfwynn is loved, there is no doubt, but there is a worry hanging over the girl. She is aware that she is a point of contention yet again, and solemnly declares to her mother that she is prepared to do her duty. Finan hates it--she is a wee child, yet women are treated as livestock by royalty, and really by nobility. What was his wife in Ireland, but a rich oxen to increase his family’s holdings. 

Uhtred is quiet and pensive. Finan watches as his Lord watches Lady Aethelflaed, and the longing is unmistakable. They stay because Uhtred fears for Aethelflaed’s safety, and the safety of her daughter. Lord Aldhelm has voiced concern that the Witan may soon find it easier to simply eliminate the Lady’s disagreement than continue to argue with her, and Uhtred finds that thought rightfully troubling. So they stay, and they wait, and there is no fighting to lessen the longing for home. 

**

Summer passes and the leaves start to fall from the trees. One of the ponies drops a foal, meaning she was pregnant when Finan purchased her. Once the foal is weaned, the pony will be Yaraga's, for Sihtric's daughter is growing increasingly vocal about the being left behind on rides. Coccham is busy with the impending harvest. Eadith finds herself commissioning new dresses, and borrowing some from Marisin, because hers no longer fit the growing bulge of the baby. Despite the belly, she asks Oseric and Ralar to continue the fight training she began with Sihtric and Osferth before they left. They do so grudgingly. Young Sihtric and Aethelstan practice with their wooden swords and staffs daily, and they are becoming quite good, even to Eadith’s untrained eye. Soon, their best competition is each other. 

Marisin’s belly grows and grows, and Eadith marvels at how she continues to carry on as if nothing is amiss, lifting Yagara when she cries and bustling about the house as if it is nothing. Eadith begins to worry that Sihtric will not return for the child’s birth. There have been few letters, but that was to be expected. Before they had left, Finan had told her that if Mercia was in need, they would probably not be able to write, for fear of the weakness coming to the attention of the Danes, who would take any opportunity to reclaim the land. 

On a stormy night, with a chill growing in the air, Eadith holds Marisin’s hand as she bares down, Hild by her feet watching the progress. It is the first birth Eadith has ever attended, and she marvels as Sihtric’s second son slides into the world in a gush of fluid and blood, wailing to announce his presence. Hild lifts him to his mother’s breast, and Marisin pulls down her shift as he roots for his breast. “Sihtric said that if it is a boy, we shall name him Uhtred. Welcome to the world, Uhtred Sihtricsen.”

Eadith smiles through tears, a hand on her belly, and prays for their men to return home.

**

The crest the last hill before Coccham as the snow begins to fall, and Finan feels deja vu of their first separation. Lady Aethelflaed rides with them with her guard, for she must continue to Winchester to speak with her brother. He and Sihtric look to Lord Uhtred for permission, and with his nod, they race to see who will arrive at Coccham’s gate first. Sihtric is certain that his child has been born, and Finan tries to imagine how much Eadith has changed. Sihtric beats him to the gate, and is off his horse by the time Finan arrives. Finan takes the reins, for he knows his wife will be with the horses at this time of day. He hears a shout, and Aethelstan is running at him, full tilt. He’s off the saddle, and the boy rockets into his arms. He is a good head taller than when Finan left, his skin bronzed, his once stick-thin arms starting to show the definition of muscle 

“You’re home!” Aethelstan cries in relief, wrapping his arms tight around Finan. 

“I’ve missed ye, wee man,” he says gruffly, emotion clogging his throat as he holds the boy close. 

Aethelstan grins up at him. “Sihtric has a brother!” He says with a laugh. “And his name is Uhtred. I can’t wait to hear what Lord Uhtred will have to say about that. Wait till you see Eadith!” Finan swings into the saddle, pulling the boy in front of him, relishing in the rightness of having him close again. His stallion gets them all to the barn in quick strides, and he is swinging down again. Eadith is in the paddock with the ponies, examining a spindly legged foal, and she straightens when she sees them, a hand going to her back. 

She’s huge, and he’s never seen her look more beautiful. Her hair falls in it’s usual braid, and she’s glowing. She grins, and moves as quickly as she’s able. He vaults the fence, and finally, finally, she’s in his arms. He kisses her hard, and then his hands are on the belly that separates them. “Christ, Eadith,” he exhales.

She puts his hands over his, and moves his hand to the left. His eyes widen as something pushes against him--a hand? A foot? He looks up at her in disbelief and he feels it again. “This is what happens when you are gone for an entire season,” she says with a laugh. He kisses her again, framing her face and turning her. He is home. 

**

Finan spends the early months of winter alternating between wonder and fear. He tries not to let his fear get the best of him, but he often thinks of Gisela and Eadith’s own mother, lost to childbirth. There are no words for the wonder he feels as Eadith’s belly jumps under his hand as the baby kicks from inside her. Sihtric only laughs at his wonder, but Finan does not miss the way his friend’s eyes sparkle as he holds his son. Uhtred’s response to his name sake had been hilarious. Apparently there was a running joke between the two men, for when Uhgtred had given Sihtric permission to marry, Sihtric had said he would name their first child after his Lord. Uhtred had denied him that, so he had waited until the second son. Uhtred pretended to be angry, but it did not last, for indeed their Lord was honored. Sihtric’s wee son was loud and commanded attention from all, so it seems only right he be named Uhtred. 

Every night, he would hold Eadith in his arms and wonder at the life inside of her as the baby kicked at him, and at her. When Aethelstan was not in the house, he took every opportunity to love her properly, for he had missed her during those months and had to show her how much. He found they could be quite creative, even with her round belly creating an obstacle. He managed to add a room onto the house before the snow came in earnest.

Then, just before Uhtred’s Yule and the 11th day of Christian Christmas, Sairlaith is born, wailing as soon as she enters the world. Finan realizes that battle had nothing on childbirth as he watches Eadith hold the wee lady to her breast to nurse. Men do not generally attend births, for they are considered a woman’s affair, but Finan is not traditional and there is no way he would miss this. It’s also never far from his mind that Eadith lost her mother in childbirth, or that it was how Gisela was taken. He is terrified that something will go wrong and he will lose her, so he makes sure Hild is aware that his presence is not up for discussion. Hild just purses her lip and shrugs. He holds Eadith's hand as she screams and bears down, and then Sairlaith is there. He marvels at his daughter as she sucks noisily from her mother’s breast, her tiny fingers kneading at Eadith’s flesh. Her hair is dark, like his, and her eyes, like her mother’s, are the blue-green of the sea. She is as beautiful as her mother, and Finan loves her instantly. 

Aethelstan comes in soon after and perches on the bed with them. “‘Er name means ‘noble lady,’” Finan tells him, pulling his ever present pony tail. “Seems a fittin’ name for the sister of a noble stone.” And it is true, for though she has no title, her parents are both of noble blood. Titles and lands and holdings mean nothing to him, not anymore. All he has ever needed is there in that room and there, in the walls of Coccham. Family and home and warmth and love. Aethelstan, once a child with no family, born of royal blood, holds Sairlaith, daughter of Finan and Eadith of Coccham, his sister by circumstance. Nobility has nothing on the love she will know. 

“A sister,” Aethelstan says, wonder in his eyes. And so their family, pieced together from people discarded from their previous lives, welcomes its newest member. 

\--

Aelswith dies near winter’s end, and Finan rides with Uhtred and a few others to Winchester at Edward’s request. He does not like the event that carries them away, fearing Aelswith’s passing will trigger something in Winchester that will change things. After speaking with Uhtred, Sihtric stays behind, along with Charles and James, to make sure Aethelstan is safe. The thing Finan fears does not come, though. Instead, Edward asks Lord Uhtred to ride to East Anglia to aid Aethelflaed, and Finan almost doesn’t go. He’d rather be home than in the heat of battle, and he just barely refrains from begging his Lord for permission to return home. He has a duty to stand beside Uhtred though, so he remains, and the days are long and bloody. When he returns home, Sairlaith is walking, and Aethelstan has grown lean and tall. He is nearly as tall as Eadith now. He finds that his son can best him in six of ten fights, and that makes his heart soar. Since Sairlaith’s birth, Aethelstan calls him Father, and Eadith Mother, and Finan finds his heart soars with the knowledge that the name he is called by Aethelstan now matches how he has considered the boy since the day they returned to Coccham from the north.

Yet Edward has sent Alfred’s crown and some prized silver and iron home with them, a reminder that Aethelstan is actually not Finan’s, but Edward’s. Eadith has the smith smelt the materials they bring to make Aethelstan a sword that will remind him of his origins. Finan sees only his son, strong and proud. It does not matter that his blood is that of a king, for he has spent the better part of his life now in Coccham. He is Eadith and Finan’s in every way that matters. Yet there is that niggling feeling at the base of his spine that makes him wonder what Edward has planned for Aethelstan. He decides he will enjoy every moment, for someday everything could change in an instant. He knows it, and he hates it. 

Little is required of them in the years that come. They fight the Danes, they help Edward and Aethelflaed hold East Anglia. Aethelstan and Young Sihtric become fighters, but not yet warriors, for Lord Uhtred insists they stay home. Sairlaith moves from walking to running and riding, and soon she has a wooden sword in her hand and is chasing her older brother. Despite the age difference, Yaraga and Sairlaith are thick as thieves, and as inseparable as Young Sihtric and Aethelstan. Sairlaith is fierce like her mother, Finan thinks. She rides like she was born on a horse, and he prays for strength when she demands to ride with them to battle, for he has no doubt that will happen eventually. 

They are the best years, full of peace and love. Eadith is a balm on his weary soul, and he thanks the Lord that he wakes to her every morning. He watches his children grow, watches as Aethelstan's learns the things that will make him a good man, a good warrior, perhaps even a good king.

Aethelstan is 18 when Edward sends for Lord Uhtred to come to Wessex for the trip that changes everything. Aethelstan and Young Sihtric beg to ride to Winchester with them, for they are more than old enough, but Uhtred refuses. “We do not know why Edward calls,” he says. He makes them stay, and Finan has a hard time leaving. He clutches his cross as he kisses Sairlaith’s dark hair, as he embraces Aethelstan’s arm. Sairlaith is soon to be twelve, nearly the same age that Aelfwynn was when they rode to Mercia years ago to aid her mother, but Sairlaith comes nearly to his chest. She has her father’s height and her mother’s fierce determination. She can wield a sword better than any of boys her age, and even some of the men who fight in the fyrd. Aethelstan and Young Sihtric have made sure of it, just as they have with Yagara, who at fifteen, is a force to be reckoned with. 

Aethelstan reminds him so much of Alfred now that it is uncanny. His eyes, especially, are dark and thoughtful, just as Alfred’s were. He is tall, nearly to FInan’s shoulder. Unlike Alfred, though, he is well muscled, with his dirty blonde hair, so reminiscent of Edward, pulled up in an Irish plait. The sides are shaved in a Danish manner. Aethelstan is an odd and interesting blend of the influences of his birth, his upbringing, and his friends. He wants to ride with them, but knows why he can not. He does not like it, but he accepts it. As Finan says goodbye, he searches his son’s eyes. “Stay safe,” is all he can say, and Aethelstan repeats their family parting mantra, but in Irish.

“Fanacht sabhailte,” Aethelstan says. It was Uhtred’s idea, of course, that the boys learn languages. Young Sihtric and Aethelstan had learned Danish first, and then Finan had taught the Aethelstan Irish. Of course, their sisters wanted to learn as well, and they were not denied by their brothers or their fathers, so both Yagara and Sairlaith spoke fluent Danish, and Sairlaith spoke Irish as well. 

Eadith he saves for last. She doesn't like being left behind either, but she stays, for she knows the children will not remain in Coccham if she leaves. As it is, it is difficult to convince Aethelstan why he must remain. The safety of Coccham no longer appeals to him as much as the idea of adventure and the unknown. Finan knows that Aethelstan grows restless. It concerns Finan for more than one reason, for Sairlaith will, undoubtedly, follow her brother wherever he goes, despite her youthful age. Eadith is dressed in one of her pant suits, and a long sword has joined the saex at her waist. She will not be caught unawares while they are gone. She still trains daily, and has become skilled with her weapons. He knows that she can handle herself, handle threats, but it does not ease his mind. He still does not like leaving, even though James and Charles will stay behind for protection, along with the Widow Anise’s two sons, who are now green fighters themselves, and a small contingent of the household guard. The sun rises and sets with her. She kisses him, framing his face with her hands. “You will be careful,” she commands. 

He holds her wrists and drops his forehead to hers. “As will ye,” he says gently. He repeats their mantra, and she returns it, but Finan feels the irrational need to shelter Eadith as he kisses her one last time. Something is off in the air, and they all feel it. Finan once again finds comfort in the strength of Coccham as a burh. The walls will hold against the enemy. So once again, he rides, as a warrior must, leaving his family behind. He kisses his cross and prays that they remain safe from the enemy. 

Finan’s mistake, of course, was that he expected any threats to come from an enemy, instead of from the crown. Walls do not matter if you open the gates willingly.

**

Four days after the men leave, a rider comes from East Anglia. Two more follow from North Umbria the following day, and Hild frowns in the hall with Eadith. Three of the boys that Uhtred installed as Aethelstan’s decoys all those years ago are now dead. News of the final boy’s death arrives with dawn on the third day. 

Eadith frowns at Hild and Aethelstan. They are alone in the church. No one else remaining in Coccham, save Marisin, knows of Aethelstan’s true origin. “This is very, very bad,” Eadith says, seeking Aethelstan’s hand. 

“They are looking for me, then,” Aethelstan says slowly. Eadith watches his face and sees the furrow of his brow, the hard set of his lips. She has feared this day, when the burden of his lineage would catch up to him. 

Hild nods. She takes parchment and begins to write. “I must write to the priests who are still alive and know of you, Aethelstan. I fear they, too, may be at risk, if this is what I think it is.” An attempt to erase Aethelstan’s existence, she does not say, because she does not need to. It is understood.

Eadith’s stomach turns. They have had such peace for so long. She has always known that it would not last, as much as she had hoped that it would. She had always assumed, though, that Finan would be by her side when the threat made itself known. Things were far less daunting when they faced them together. She is not sure she can do this alone. “Why do you think they were called to Winchester?” She asks now. 

Hild shakes her head, her grey hair bobbing around her shoulders. “I do not know, but it can not be good. Things have been set in motion. I think . . . “ She clears her throat. “I think something has happened, either regarding the succession, or Edward himself. Aethelstan is being seen as a threat, and they are trying to eliminate it.” Who they were was unclear, but Eadith knew that Lord Aethelhelm, the king’s father-in-law still lived, and that he had always been all too aware of the threat Aethelstan posed to Edward’s other, younger son, Aelfwaerd. Aethelhelm was a scheming turd whom Lord Uhtred believed had poisoned Lady Aelswith during her captivity in Winchester, which had started the sickness that would eventually end her life. 

Eadith reaches for her sword hilt, reassured by it. She looks at her son, taller than her, and muscled like a warrior. Something was coming, she was certain. It would not take them unawares. “We must be ready,” she says. 

Hild nods and moves to a dais, beginning to pack a bag. She pulls out a suit of mail and shakes the dust from it. Though she is old and grey now, Hild was once a warrior who fought alongside Lord Uhtred. She lays the mail out carefully, obviously feeling the need to become the warrior once more. “I need to go and tell Lord Uhtred what has happened. He will want to return quickly, and I also cannot trust these letters or this information to a messenger.” She turns and clasps Aethelstan’s arm. “You will stay alert at all times,” she says, “and you will do nothing stupid.” Aethelstan, for all his training, is still young and impetuous, and Eadith is glad he hears these words from someone other than her. They mean more coming from Hild than from his mother. 

Aethelstan starts to protest and she puts a hand up. “Those boys died to protect you, Aethelstan. You are the king’s rightful heir, do you understand that?”

Eadith watches as he snaps his mouth shut, his jaw working in a way that reminds her a great deal of Finan. 

“You will be cautious,” Hild commands, “and you will stay inside the Coccham’s walls until Lord Uhtred returns.” She turns to Eadith. “Bar the gates when I leave, and tell them to open them for no man save Finan or Lord Uhtred.”

Eadith nods and hugs the Abbess, her oldest friend in Coccham. “Be safe, Hild.”

Hild smiles. “I ride with the Lord,” she says. She dons her mail, arms herself, and then leaves. Hild rides for Winchester to tell Uhtred of the threat, James accompanying her for protection. 

**

Aethelstan sits at the long, well worn table in Finan and Eadiths house, surrounded by Sihtric, Yagara and Sairlaith. Eadith should be preparing dinner, but instead she leans against the counter as Aethelstan pins her with dark, fathomless eyes. 

Sihtric the younger is insistent as he leans forward, gesturing between Aethelstan and Eadith. “Something isn’t adding up here, and you two know what’s going on.” He looks uncannily like his father, who has spent more than his fair share of time at that table in the past years. “I can count on one hand the number of times we have closed the gate, and all have involved news of raiders.”

“And where has Hild gone?” Sairlaith inquires as she nods in agreement with Sihtric. Her daughter is wise beyond her year. 

Aethelstan jaw twitches, and Eadith is well aware that he hates that they do not know. No one else in the room, not Sairlaith, not Sihtric, not Yagara, not even Charles, who is standing guard for the night outside the cottage door, knows Aethelstan’s true parentage. His sister does not know that he is not her blood. She still thinks he is Finan's bastard son. Even his best friend has no idea of his parentage, and at that moment, Eadith can see in his eyes how much this wears on him. Before, when there was no obvious threat, this decision made sense, but now Eadith wonders if they have made the right choice. She can see in his eyes that he wants to tell them, but she can't make that choice alone, not without Finan and Uhtred to articulate the reasoning for keeping it a secret. Teenage impulsivity and life-altering secrets do not go well together in dangerous situations, and Eadith can not ignore the sick feeling in her stomach that tells her this threat is as real as they come.

Aethelstan leans across the table and takes his sister’s hand, saying something in Irish that makes her chuckle and smile. Eadith leans her head back and curses the foolish men in her life for teaching the teens how to speak in languages Eadith does not know. Aethelstan could have just told his sister all of his secrets, or that they could run away after their mother fell asleep, and Eadith would never be any the wiser. 

All four watch her reaction and then Sairlaith laughs again, breaking the tension in the room. Yagara says something in Danish that makes them all laugh, and Eadith stomps her foot in helpless annoyance. She doesn’t like not knowing what is being said, and she does not like how out of control this situation is beginning to feel.

Sairlaith smiles at her, her blue-green eyes gentle and sparkling with mischief. “Mother, Mother,” Sairlaith says, rising to come and embrace her. “Worry not. Aethelstan has not said anything but a joke. It is alright.”

Eadith frames her daughter’s face with her hands. While the eyes that look back at her are so much like her own, Sairlaith’s expressions are Finan, through and through. Her dark eyebrows knit in sincerity, and Eadith smooths the loose tendrils of her braid. Despite her young age, Eadith is well aware of the maturity her daughter possesses. Of all of them, Sairlaith will handle the news the best, yet she cannot do it without Finan and Uhtred. There is too much at stake. “I promise I will explain everything, as soon as your father returns. But this is very serious, Sairlaith. Life and death.” She wraps her arms around her daughter, far too mature and serious for her age, and prays that Finan returns quickly. 

“Would it not be better to just explain now?” She asks, far too logical for a girl of twelve. 

“I cannot,” Eadith says simply. Not without Finan and Uhtred. The risk is too great. 

Sihtric stands with a sigh. “That makes no sense, Lady, but it is your decision. Father says that often times there are things in play that we will cannot fully understand, and I suspect this is one of those times.” He folds his arms and eyes Aethelstan. “I must tell my mother we will stay here tonight. Will you come with me, brother?” He asks Athelstan. 

Before he can answer, though, Eadith shakes her head. “My children must not leave the house tonight, Sihtric, I am sorry. You are welcome to stay, but they remain here.” She will not let them out of her sight, nor will her sword be far from her reach, not until Finan has returned. 

Sihtric narrows his gaze at her, and again Eadith is struck by how much he resembles his father. “Fine,” Sihtric says. “Yagara, will you come with me?”

Yagara stands, playfully punching Aethelstan on the arm as they go. “We’ll be back, then,” she says as she goes. 

As the door shuts behind them, Sairlaith looks at her expectantly. 

Eadith simply shakes her head, and Sairlaith looks at Aethelstan in disbelief. “Seriously, Mother? Brother? You will not even tell me, alone, what is going on?”  
“Not without your father,” Eadith says again. Come home, Finan, she thinks. I need you more now than I ever have before. Something is coming. And it is, she knows it. Her hand finds the hilt of her sword. She will be ready. She must be. 

**  
Finan, Sihtric and Osferth sit at the Three Cranes Inn, soberly sipping ale and watching their Lord. Uhtred stares blankly at his cup, yet he does not drink. 

Lady Aethelflaed is dead, taken by sickness a fortnight ago. King Edward thought it better that the news be delivered to Uhtred in person, knowing how his ealdorman felt about his sister. Edward has also delivered the news that he would like Aethelstan and Uhtred to go to Mercia and establish Aelfwynn’s reign there. Aelfwynn had been married and widowed in quick succession, and at 22 had not yet taken the throne. Edward fears the Witan of Mercia will not welcome another female ruler, so Aethelstan is to present himself as an alternate choice. His grandmother, after all, was a Mercian.

Uhtred runs his hands along his cup, and swallows. Finan just watches, unsure of what to say or do. His Lord is processing his grief, and Finan is trying to think what this means for Aethelstan, but he can’t quite wrap his mind around it yet. 

“Lord Uhtred, thank God,” comes a voice from the darkness, and Finan stands with his hand on his sword. Father Pyrlig, old and withering, steps into the light. Not, a threat then, Finan thinks, breathing a sigh of relief. 

Uhtred just looks up, unshed tears bright in his eyes, his brow knit in confusion. 

Pyrlig nods to Finan, Sihtric and Osferth, and Finan relaxes back into his seat. Father Pyrlig is known to them all, and is a friend. “Forgive me, Lord Uhtred, for interrupting your grief, but I have news you must know.”

Uhtred watches with blank eyes, and with a shrug says, “Speak your news, Father.”

“Lord Aethelhelm has dispatched a small group of riders just now,” Pyrlig says carefully, “led by a man named Stanhelm.” 

Finan sits up suddenly. “Stanhelm’s brother lives in Coccham,” Finan says, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up. Finan glances at Sihtric and focuses on steadying his breath. Sihtric’s jaw works. Osferth’s eyes jump between Finan and Sihtric, then Pyrlig and Uhtred. 

Father Pyrlig nods at Finan, eyes tight. “Lord Aethelhelm has been sending many messengers out lately,” he says, looking between Finan and Uhtred. “He was most unhappy to learn that Aelfweard is not being sent to secure Mercia.” 

“Stanhelm’s brother Aidelhelm is one of the men left behind to guard Coccham.” Lord Uhtred finally speaks, and Finan pushes back from the table. Stanhelm’s brother wasn’t just left behind, he was left in charge of the remaining guard at Coccham. And if his brother arrives at the gates, and tells him that they were sent by the king? Finan is certain that Aidelhelm will admit his brother and whatever men ride with him. Home, he has to get home. Aethelstan is in danger. They are all in danger, and left with virtually no one to protect them. Uhtred focuses on Father Pylrig now. “How long ago did they ride?”

“Well before dark, Lord,” Father Pyrlig says, looking down. “News just reached me. I do not know how many men went with him.” 

Finan swears. They have a significant head start. “Lord,” is all he can manage, stepping close to Uhtred. Sihtric and Osferth are right behind him, as he knew they would be. 

Uhtred clasps his arm with a nod. “The time is here,” he says. They have talked many, many times about possible scenarios in which someone comes after Aethelstan. Threats to the crown are often the focus of assassignation attempts, and they have always known that it is a possibility with Aethelstan. “Ride, and take Sihtric with you. Osferth and I will speak to the King, and will not be far behind.”

Finan nods, thinking only of his family, of making sure they are safe. “Finan, Sihtric!” Uhtred calls after them. “Be careful.”

Finan nods, and together he and Sihtric run to the stables. As they gallop through the gates of Winchester, Finan prays they make it in time. 

**

The girls sleep curled in Sairlaith’s room and the boys are up in the loft. Eadith sits by the fire, and she is sharpening her blade as Sihtric the elder had shown her years ago. She understands why the men do it. It soothes the nerves, and it was reassuring to know that her blade would be sharp when the enemy came. Even though she is waiting, she is surprised how quietly death comes at them. It does not come through the front door, but from the side. She hears a rustle, and a quiet gasp that she knows is her daughter. Her sword is drawn as she pushes into her room, and she sees two men there. They have come through the window, and there is already blood on the sword one of them holds to her daughter’s neck. She knows that Charles, at the very least, is dead, maybe more. The man starts to speak to her, then yowls in surprise. Yaraga had been sleeping on the floor and the fools had not noticed her. Yaraga sleeps with a saex under her pillow, and she used it to slice the tendons of the the man who has Sairlaith, as Uhtred and her father had shown her. He is so focused on the unexpected pain that Sairlaith is able to step neatly away from him. Yaraga tosses her the blade in a smooth, practiced move, and Sairlaith ends the man’s life by plunging the saex into his belly, while Yagara takes her long sword and hacks down on the other man. They were not expecting resistance from a house full of women and children, it would seem, and they fall easily. There is a shout from the front, and as she steps into the main room of her house, there are two more men there. Sihtric and Aethelstan stand shoulder to shoulder, swords raised. 

Eadith stops thinking, and she simply fights. There are too many men in her small house, and she says a prayer of thanks that she had spoken with Hild all those years ago and decided to learn to fight. Aethelstan and Sihtric are quick and dispatch three. Sairlaith and Yaraga take two more. Three more still remain, and Eadith is not certain this is a fight they can win, not without losses. “Aethelstan!” She cries. “Get the girls to the loft!” She can protect the ladder, at least. Sihtric looks at her, eyes wide, and she tells him to go too, but instead, he turns and fights with her. They dispatch the three, and yet two more come. She screams in frustration, and one of them gets in a swing with his sword. She feels the blood on her sword hand more than she feels the sword on her arm, and then Sihtric is there. Everything becomes a blur, and then there is silence. 

She is somehow on the floor, and Sihtric and Aethelstan are bending over her. She hears Aethelstan telling the girls to stay in the loft. “Go get your mother, Sihtric,” Aethelstan commands, “quickly!”

“No!” She gasps, grabbing at Sihtric. Aethelstan’s brow furrows and he starts to argue, but she shakes her head. “Aethelstan no, he must not be seen. There could be more.”

“You’re hurt,” Aethelstan says, but Eadith breathes a sigh of relief when Sihtric reappears over her.

“It does not matter,” she says. “There could be more of them out there. We must remain here. We can not risk them knowing where Aethelstan is, or it could put others at risk. It could put the whole town at risk.”

“Why?” Sihtric asks. 

He has saved her life, and the lives of her children, so he deserves the truth. She takes his hand and joins it with Aethelstan’s. She can hear Sairlaith’s inhale, and knows she is listening too. “Because Aethelstan is the legitimate heir to the throne of Wessex. He is Edward’s son, born from a secret marriage.” Sihtric’s eyes widen and his gaze flies to Aethelstan’s. “These men were sent to kill him.”

She hears Sairlaith’s gasp, and then darkness folds in on her. 

**

Finan and Sihtric reach Coccham at dawn. The first thing FInan notices is that the gates are closed. The gates are usually only closed on Uhtred’s orders. Finan calls for the guard as they open, but no one answers. When the gates are closed, there is always a sentry, yet no one comes to open them. “Shit,” Sihtric says, and Finan can only agree. Something is very, very wrong. 

“The river?” He asks, unable to articulate more. They have to find a way into the burh. The very walls that have given him comfort in the past are standing between him and his family, and knows danger lurks inside. 

Sihtric exhales. “Let me think a moment, Finan.”

Finan is glad Sihtric can think, because he certainly can’t. Something had happened for them to close the gates. But it wouldn’t have mattered, because the turd Aethelhelm had sent family of Uhtred’s fucking household guard to kill Finan’s family. Aethelhelm had known exactly what he was doing. What other reason could he have had to send them to Coccham, except to assassinate Aethelstan. Eadith would not allow it, not without a fight. Christ, please let them be alive. He grabs his cross, brings it to his lips. He thinks of Aethelstan, perched on his shoulders, Sairlaith, swinging in the oak as he pushed her. Eadith, framing her face, telling him to come home.

“It must be the river, Finan,” Sihtric says finally. They ride up the river and catch the current, holding on to reed stems in case they need to disappear. But the watchtower Uhtred had constructed on the small silt island is unguarded, and they swim easily to the dock. 

It is too quiet, and Finan starts seeing what was left behind of the household guard as he runs for home. Charles lays motionless across his front step, his life blood staining the soil, and Finan feels lightheaded as he opens the door. There is a body blocking it, and he can’t get it open and he feels the tears then. Sihtric is there, and he helps him push, and it’s not anyone he knows that’s blocking the door, but a man wearing armor bearing the seal of Wessex. There is such carnage in the house, that it takes him a moment to realize Eadith is not among them, nor Aethelstan, nor Sairlaith. “Eadith!” He finally calls. “Aethelstan?”

“Father!” There is a rustle from the loft, and then Aethelstan leaps down, sword in hand. He looks at Finan, then Sihtric, and sheaths his sword, throwing his arms around his father. 

Finan feels sick. Eadith. Sairlaith. He makes a noise, he thinks, and for once, Aethelstan is the one comforting him. “We’re okay. Mother’s hurt, but Sihtric thinks she’s going to be okay.”

Finan exhales, and his eyes are wet. Sairlaith is there, then, and she hugs him, and then Yaraga follows down the ladder. Sihtric comes last, and then Finan takes the ladder two rungs at a time. Eadith is there, on Aethelstan’s reed bed, pale but breathing. She opens her eyes as he comes, and she smiles at him. “They did not take him,” she says softly.

He drops his forehead to hers. “The spirit of a true warrior,” he declares, and she lets out a soft laugh, carding the fingers of her uninjured hand through his hair. Her arm is bandaged, but he can see the smear of red as the blood stains through. She’s losing a lot of blood, and Sihtric has not learned his father’s skill at healing, at least not yet. 

“I had to tell them,” she says with a frown. “About Aethelstan.”

He nods. Her eyes dip, and he panics. “Hey, stay with me,” he whispers. She goes limp, and the fear consumes him. He calls for Sihtric, who is there in an instant. He assess the wound, and her color, then reassures him that she is fine, just tired from the fight and the loss of blood. 

**

Uhtred is back before Eadith wakes up, and they organize in the hall. Finan carries her and rests her on a makeshift bed on the hall table. All fifteen of the household guard that were left behind have lost their lives, including Aidelhelm, and as many of Athelhelm’s men had fallen, most in his home. No one has seen Hild or James, and that sends Uhtred into a rage. Aethelstan recounts the events that lead to Eadith ordering the gates closed, and explains that Hild had taken James to ride for Winchester. It’s likely that they passed her as they rode through the night. 

Finan stands next to Eadith, holding his wife’s hand. Marisin and Sihtric have bandaged the angry slice in her sword arm and reassured him that her lack of consciousness is only exhaustion. He watches as his daughter react to Aethelstan's information. Her mouth falls open as she explains the deaths of the boys Uhtred had planted as Aethelstan's decoys. Yagara holds Sairlaith’s hand, and young Sihtric stands behind her, a hand on her shoulder. He knows this posturing. His daughter is being protected by those she loves and that love her as she processes that her family has lied to her for her entire life. She has tears in her eyes as she walks up to him, stroking a loose hair from her mother's face. He cannot miss the wounded expression in her eyes, so much like Eadith’s. "How could you keep this from me?" She asks.

"Because we both hoped nothing would ever come of it," he says, and it is the truth. "The lie was the truth we lived by, Sairlaith. Aethelstan is our son, your brother. We weren't sure anything would ever come of it." They could not have told her the truth, not as a young child. It was too great of a burden for her to have to bear. 

"But it did," she said flatly.

He nods and reaches for her hand. “We made the only decision we could. We needed the lie to be the truth, Sairlaith, to keep everyone safe.” He wills her to understand. “It was done for love,” he says simply, and her eyes soften then. She nods. 

“Maireann lá go ruaig ach maireann an grá go huaigh,” she says softly and he smiles. It is an irish saying he has said to her many times. A day lasts until it is chased away, but love lasts until the grave. He nods, kissing her hand. She is far wiser than her years. 

“I really should have made you teach me Irish,” Eadith says with a groan. Sairlaith’s eyes widen and she smiles down at her mother. Finan slips into a chair so he’s eye level with his wife. 

“Ye scared me Eadith,” he says softly. “Don’t ye ever go passin’ out on me again.”

She smiles at him, and then her brow wrinkles. “What did a miss?”

“Nothin’,” he says, smoothing a hand along her cheek, “except Aethelstan recountin’ what ye and Hild discussed in the church. The men are buryin’ or burnin’ the dead, dependin’ on their faith.”

“Charles,” she whispers, and her eyes tear. 

“Aye,” he said, squeezing her hand.

“I need to tell his mother,” she says, and moves to get up. 

Finan admonishes her, and Uhtred steps over. “I will do that, Eadith, for it was I who permitted his service to you, and he served you well.”

“James?” She asks. “And Hild?” 

Uhtred shakes his head. “We’ve heard no news.”

“We think we mighta passed Hild in the night,” Finan says.

She blinks at him, and Finan notices that everyone is gathering closer. Now that Eadith is awake, he supposes, it is time to really talk. “I want to sit up,” Eadith says. He helps her sit, and then pulls her neatly into his arms. After the scare she gave him, he’d much rather hold her close. 

Sairlaith settles in a chair across from him. Aethelstan settles next to her, and Sihtric beside him. Sihtric the elder and Marisin come close, along with Osferth. Yaraga sits on Sairlaith’s other side. Uhtred sits next to Finan, and let’s out a sigh. “Lady Aethelflaed is dead.”

Eadith gasps, and Aethelstan drops his head as he holds his cross. She was, after all, his aunt. “Aelfwynn?” He asks, thinking immediately of his cousin. 

“She’s fine,” Uhtred says. “Aethelflaed fell ill, but now Mercia is again in turmoil. King Edward sent for us because he wants you and I to go there and help restore the order, put Aelfwynn on the throne if they will allow it, and you if they will not, Aethelstan.”

Aethelstan’s jaw drops and Sairlaith turns to gape at her brother. “Me?” Aethelstan says in disbelief. Finan feels Eadith’s hand creep up to where his mail meets his neck, and she slides her hand under it, so that her skin is against his. 

Osferth spoke now. “We believe that Lord Athelhelm did not approve of this plan, and decided it was time to deal with you once and for all.”

“He’s been trying at that for weeks, though,” Eadith said, “based on the news we received after you left.”

Finan nods. “He must have decided Coccham was the most obvious choice.”

Aethelstan pursed his lips. “And Edward revealed it to him, didn’t he?” Finan knits his brow in confusion. “He sent for you, Lord Uhtred, when he reached his decision. That’s how he knew to look in Coccham.”

Uhtred nods. “That does make sense.”

“I can stay here no longer,” Aethelstan says, rising. “It puts everyone at risk.”

“Sit down, Aethelstan,” Finan demands. He rarely demands things, but he’ll not have his son running off in some half baked effort at being noble. 

“How did they get past the gate?” Eadith asks. 

“Athelhem sent Aidelhelm’s brother,” Uhtred growls. 

Eadith lets out a gasp. “Aidelhelm is loyal,” she says.

“Aidelhelm is dead, Eadith,” Finan says. “We think his brother declared he was there on the king’s business, and when he opened the gate, the others entered and slaughtered the guard. 

“The men are dead?” She asks, and he knows she means the men of Coccham who were left behind to keep the burh safe. She knew them all, made it her business to know them, and their families, and their needs. 

He nods and drops a kiss to her hair. “Every last one,” he says softly. She leans into him.

“You did well though,” Uhtred says, first to her and then to the children. “You took as many lives as they did.”

Yaraga grinned. “They were too stupid to expect women to fight back,” she said. “And I think they did not expect the boy they have been sent to kill to be a fighter.”

“Sihtric saved my life,” Eadith whispers to Finan. “The children all fought well.” They are children no more, Finan thinks, and it pains him, even though he had known it was coming. 

“Edward now knows what his father-in-law has done. Osferth and I made certain of it before returning.” Uhtred stands and begins to pace. “He still wants us to ride to Mercia, and do what needs to be done there.”

Osferth reaches for something under the table and brings it to Aethelstan, setting it on the table before him. It’s battle armor, Finan realizes, leather with a large medal across the front. 

Aethelstan runs his fingers over the medal and looks at the Osferth, who nods. “It is the symbols of all the kingdoms of England, on one medal,” Osferth says. Osferth and Aethelstan have read of histories of Wessex and England together for years. “King Edward is still trying to fulfil King Alfred’s dream of a united England, under one king.”

“He wants me to do it?” Aethelstan says in disbelief. Finan looks from his son, to Osferth, to Uhtred. He has no idea about any of this. Eadith is still in his lap, her eyes focused on Aethelstan.

Osferth nods to the armor. “Look at the medal, Aethelstan. I’ve not seen one like it before. What do you think?”

“We always knew it was a possibility,” Eadith says softly, “that he would want you to rule.”

Finan nods. “In the beginning, we wondered if that was why he sent you with Uhtred.”

“So what now,” Aethelstan ask, looking up and at Uhtred and Finan. 

“We ride to Mercia,” Uhtred says simply. “And you are Aethelstan Mac Finan no more.”

Aethelstan locks eyes with Finan, and frowns. “You are the legitimate son of King Edward,” Uhtred continues, “and that is how all you shall meet shall know you. The King sends a priest to accompany you.”

Aethelstan looks to Eadith and then Finan, and then takes Sairlaith’s hand. “You are my family,” he says softly. 

Eadith pulls away from Finan and stands, and Finan puts his hands on her hips to steady her. “Nothing changes that,” she says, and there is steel in her voice. “But you are the son of the king, Aethelstan. You are still my son, but you will call me Mother no more. I am Eadith, and your Father is Finan, and you will do what is necessary, because you are a good man, and you will do what is right. We have known that this was a possibility. Even you have known.”

Aethelstan pushed back from the chair, his eyes dark and sad. Finan thinks about ordering him to sit down again, but Eadith holds a hand to him, and he understands her signal to wait. He watches the boy go out the door into the late morning light. "You need to go talk to him," she says softly. "This is very much about you and him, I think."

Eadith has always been an excellent judge of the needs of their children, so he drops a kiss on her head, and follows his son. "Make sure she doesn't fall over," Finan calls back to Uhtred, seriously concerned about his wife's ability to not overextend herself, given her injury. To his absolute amazement, Uhtred chuckles. 

"I'll do my best, Finan," he calls after him.

Aethelstan is standing on the dock, arms crossed over himself as he stares over the Thames, and there are tears in his dark eyes. Finan stands next to him and mirrors his pose, watching the boy out of the corner of his eye. At that exact moment, Aethelstan looked impossibly young for what is being asked of him.

"He has never come to see me," Aethelstan says angrily. "Not once, not in all the years I have been here. What right does he have to order me where to go?"

"He is the king, Aethelstan. Even if he were not bound by blood, living in Wessex means he can ask whatever he'd like of ye, or me, or yer mother."

Athelstan thumps his chest. "But that's the problem, isn't it. I am not expected to call her 'Mother,' or you 'Father.' What right does he have? You are my parents, in every way that matters."

Finan reaches out to his son and turns him to face him, a hand on each of Aethelstan's shoulders. He thinks he finally understands what this is really about. "Nothin' changes who we are to each other Aethelstan, nothin'. Eadith and I, we will love ye the same no matter what ye call us. This is what ye were meant for, son."

Aethelstan reminds Finan so much of the boy he had know in Mercia, tears in his eyes as he declared to Finan that is father did not want him. He folds the boy into his embrace, and Aethelstan lets go. "I am who I am because of you," he says through the tears.

Finan swallows. "Ye have wanted adventure and reputation," Finan says, and ye shall have both. Ye will not be alone, Aethelstan," he promises. "Uhtred will be with ye, as will I. Whatever comes, ye will not face it alone. Caithfidh tú do chuid féin a dhéanamh ag fás, ach ní dhéanann tú é ina aonar."

The boy nods, and hugs him harder, and Finan knows that the road ahead will not be an easy one for his son. He remembers the wee man, sad and alone, and he thanks God that he has been able to be a part of Aethelstan's life, and that he will continue to be still. 

**

Eadith sinks into the chair with a groan. Her daughter is talking with Yaraga and Young Sihtric. Marisin and Sihtric are talking by the fire, and Osferth has parchment spread in front of him. It looks as if he is working at recreating the emblem on the medal that adorns the armor King Edward has sent. She looks to Uhtred, who is staring off at the door, clearly elsewhere. 

“I am sorry about Lady Aethelflaed,” she says softly. 

He nods. “She had my respect,” he says softly, “and my love. She deserved so much more.”

Eadith nods, thinking of the interminable years Aethelflaed had been married to Aethelred, and how repugnant the man had been the single time that Eadith had laid with him. “She had to endure a great deal more than she should have, I’d say.”

Uhtred tilts his head and looks at her carefully. “You will not stay behind, will you?” He asks, but she suspects he already knows the answer. When she shakes her head, he looks again toward the door. “Finan will not like it.”

“He will like it less when I tell him Sairlaith is coming, too,” she says. “With or without your permission, as well, Lord.”

Uhtred chuckles. “And if I say no?”

“I will convince you, or she will,” she says, nodding to her daughter. 

“When I was her age,” he says softly, “I met Alfred for the first time. I snuck into the Saxon camp to spy.”

Young Sihtric is frowning at the ground, and Eadith watches as Sairlaith reaches out and squeezes his hand, saying something Eadith can’t make out, although she catches the gentle lilts of Danish as her daughter speaks. Uhtred smiles again, and shakes his head. “It is Finan who will need convincing, not me. She fights better than half the fyrd.”

Eadith laughs. “She does, doesn’t she? You would have been so proud of all of them Uhtred. They held their own and fought bravely. All four of them remembered everything you have taught them.”

Uhtred nods. “I am glad. I am glad, too, that your injury was minor.”

“I shall finally have one scar on my arm, so that I may share that with Finan.” Uhtred is looking off at the door again, so Eadith asks the question that has been plaguing her. “What do you think Edward has planned for Aethelstan, Lord?”

“I do not think,” he says, turning his intense blue eyes on her, “for King Edward told me himself. He is meant to bring the kingdoms together, Lady. It is his destiny. Edward is not the man to bring Alfred’s dream of a united England to be, but Aethelstan could be.”

She nods, and looks again at Sairlaith, Sihtric and Yaraga. The four of them have been inseparable for years, and suddenly everything about their life has changed.

“What now?” Eadith asks. 

Uhtred sighs. “We rest,” he says, “for it has been a long night. Edward’s priest should arrive this evening. Tomorrow we will prepare, and the next day we will leave for Mercia.”

Eadith looks at him, and ponders if what she’s about to say next is asking too much of a man who has given most of his life to Wessex, and Alfred’s line. “Lord,” she says softly, “may I ask you something, with the understanding that if it is too much, you will tell me so?”

Uhtred narrows his eyes at her, but nods. 

The door opens then, and Finan walks in, his arm around Aethelstan’s shoulder. She feels an unexpected and sudden rush of tears as she looks at them together. “Stand by him,” she says softly, pleading. “No matter what happens to Finan and I, please stand by him. He will need guidance, and it should come from you.”

Uhtred looks at her, looks to Finan and her son, and then nods once more. “I love him, too, you know,” he says. “So yes, Lady, you have my word.”

She smiles her thanks, for there are no words. 

**

Finan holds her close as the midafternoon sun spills through the upper window of the hall. They are using the room he used to sleep in before their marriage. She can not stomach the thought of returning to the house and seeing the ground stained with Charles’s blood. She thinks Finan is asleep, but he nuzzles her shoulder. “Speak yer mind, woman,” he says softly.

“I am coming with you,” she says, seeing no way to delay this discussion. He needs rest, and she needs him, but they have to talk about this. 

“Eadith . . . “

“I won’t stay behind while half my life rides off, Finan. I do not think Lord Uhtred expects to return to Coccham. The only thing keeping me here when you leave has been the children.”

Finan rises up on his elbow, his hair a little too long and disheveled, his eyes heavy with the exhaustion. “And what of Sairlaith? Who will watch over her if ye come?” He asks. 

Oh boy, here goes. Eadith worries her lip between her teeth as she wills him to understand what she is about to say. “She will not stay behind, either.”

He frowns at her. “Eadith, ye can’t be serious.”

“Finan, do you think Sihtric and Yaraga are going to stay behind?” He furrows his eyebrows, and she knows that he knows they will not. “Sihtric has trained beside Aethelstan since he came to Coccham. Expecting Sihtric not to follow is like expecting you not to follow Uhtred--it's not happening." Finan just looks at her, his jaw jumping slightly. "expecting Yaraga not to follow is like asking Osferth to stay behind."

"Osferth is a man, and a warrior," Finan says.

"And you know Yaraga will be a warrior, Finan. She fights well. Do not discount her because she is a woman."

"A girl," Finan corrects, and she rises up to meet him eye to eye.

"A woman," she corrects. " Old enough to wed, old enough to make her own choices. I had already been bedded by an Ealdorman by that age, and several more.". Finan growls at that and concerns ground by laying back, staring up at the cieling. Eadith presses on "She is Sihtric's daughter, after all. She will fight well when the time comes." Eadith thinks of Yaraga disabling the man who held Sairlaith, and then neatly tossing the blade to Sairlaith so she could finish the job. "In fact, she has already proven herself. They all have, as far as I am concerned. And if all three of them go, of course Sairlaith will go. Her entire life is Sihtric, Yaraga, and her brother. They are everything to her. Do you really expect her to just stay behind while everything she loves leaves?”

“She’s a child, Eadith,” he says severely. 

“She’s old enough to be wed,” Eadith points out, “and if she were male you would let her go without question.”

He opens his mouth to argue, then closes it. 

“She is your daughter,” Eadith says, threading her fingers through his beard along his jaw line. He closes his eyes and leans into her. “She will want to fight, Finan. Whatever is coming, I think we will all need to fight. For Aethelstan. Don’t deny her that, because you are afraid.”

“I can’t control anythin’ that’s happening with Aethelstan,” Finan says sadly. “I would like to at least keep her safe.” He runs his fingers along her jaw. "And you, too. But I can see that isn't going to happen.

“We can’t keep either of them safe forever,” she says, turning to kiss his lips. “The hardest thing about raising children, I think, is that moment when you can no longer protect them from the world. And I would spend a lifetime in danger to be with you Finan, surely you know that. I have stayed behind long enough.”

He drops his head to hers. “No one protected us when we were children, did they?” He says softly.

“No, and we still survived. We will keep her from the worst of the fighting, until she will no longer allow it.”

He swears in Irish, because he knows she is right. 

He rolls back onto his back, grabbing her hips and carrying her with him until she is on top of him. "Ye are a convincing woman," he says. "Although I can certainly think of some advantages of ye ridin' with us." He kisses her, careful not to jostle her injured arm. "Still, Eadith, I would rather ye didn't start collectin' scars. I like yer skin the way it is." To emphasize his point, he runs his hand up her thighs where she straddles him, up under the dress she is wearing. 

Eadith forgets all about his concession as his touch ignites her. After all of these years, what is between them has not faded or weakened. If anything, it's stronger.

**

Preparations are made. The priest comes, and it is none other than Young Uhtred. Hild and James return, carrying with them letters from four holy men swearing that Aethelstan is the oldest legitimate son of King Edward. As the sun rises two days later, they prepare to ride.

Uhtred calls for his men's attention. "This will be no short ride, but you will find your place in history!" He calls. "For growing and living among you has been the son of Edward." There is a collective gasp amount the men, and Aethelstan tenses beside Finan. "After Sigtrygger took Winchester, the people of Coccham were trusted with a treasure, although it was unknown to you at the time." Uhtred raises a hand and points to Aethelstan. "Aethelstan, raised by Finan and Eadith of Coccham, has been hiding here.because he is the legitimate son of Edward, and his life was in danger as a boy." The men understand now, and Uhtred has their complete attention. "Now, he is a man, and that danger again. Men were sent to kill him, and the people of Coccham protect their own. We honor their sacrifice. Now, we ride to Mercia, to stabilize the region. We have ridden to the aid of Mercoa, to the aid of Lady Aethelflaed many times." Finan watches his Lord closes his eyes and swallow, the pain of Aethelflaed's loss still raw. "Now, we will ride for her nephew, whom you have known and lived beside, who carries royal blood and who will be just, and nobel, for he is of Coccham!"

The men cheer, and Finan watches as Aethelstan takes a step back, and then meets Finan's eyes. "They will follow ye," Finan says.

Aethelstan swallows, gives a curt nod, and then turns to his mount. He looks over his shoulder at Finan with his lips quirked. "So," he says, "We ride for peace again."

Finan smiles, remembering saying those words to the wee man all those years ago as they rode to Aegelesburg. Aethelstan swings into the saddle, and Finan follows suit, grinning. "We do," Finan says. 

"And for England," Aethelstan says, softly, reaching back to touch of the hilt of the sword at his back. 

Uhtred has come up on Aethelstan's other side, and nods to him. Reaching back as one, they both pull their swords and raise them, together crying "For England!" 

The men cheer. "For England!" 

Eadith and Sairlaith come on Finan's other side, and he smiles at them. He thinks of the man he was when he first saw Uhtred and Halig on the beach. That man would never believe that he would live for this moment, and share it with this family. Finan presses his cross to his lips, his eyes on Eadith as he does so. She smiles, turning Dullahan to fall in line beside him.

Uhtred and Aethelstan lead as they ride from Coccham. 

And so, the next chapter begins.

**

It will not be written that King Aethelstan, first king of all England and the English, was a part of his first shield wall while riding with Uhtred Ragnarson when he was 18, or that Finan and Eadith of Coccham were the people that he considered his parents, just as it was never written that King Alfred stood on Uhtred Ragnarson's shoulders many times. In fact, it is Uhtred that tells him to make sure it is not written. Some things are not meant for the generations. Some things, the best things, are done out of love and are meant only for a few. 

There are no pages in the Chronical that tell how Aethelstan learned to ride between Eadith and Finan, or how he learned the value of kindness by watching how Sihtric and Osferth treated one another despite their different beliefs. Nowhere on those pages is there the story of how he learned his way with a sword by play-fighting with his Pagan best friend. The generations will not learn how Aethelstan came to understand the true meaning of sacrifice as he watched Uhtred and the Lady Aethelflaed walk away from each other, time and time again. It will not be written that the family who raised him was a mix of Pagan and Christian, comprised of three men who had been slaves at least once in their long lives, the bastard son of a dead king, and a woman whose father forced her to lie with an old man to save his farm. There are no biographies telling how most of them do not live to see Aethelstan crowned. 

It is not written that Eadith fell in a failed attempt to capture Eforwich, in the same manner that she lived, fighting shoulder to shoulder with Finan, protecting what they hold dear. There is no chapter in the Chronicle that tells how after Finan buries her on a hill overlooking the river, he tells Sairlaith and Aethelstan of how he once found his voice, then found hope, and eventually found his heart in Eadith, tears in his eyes and his voice as he leaves her there and he keeps on fighting. Osferth will fall not long after, and then it is Finan who gives the ultimate sacrifice, taking an axe meant for Aethelstan. On that day, Eforwich is taken, but the victory is overshadowed by loss. Sihtric the Elder gives his life saving Uhtred from an assassination attempt weeks before Aethelstan is crowned. It is a rare thing, indeed, for the men who serve a king or a warrior at the beginning to survive to be there at the end. This is the hardest lesson that Aethelstan has learned. 

Yet those stories are not forgotten, for those are the things that make a man who he is. Aethelstan will tell his children how he learned the value of compassion by following Eadith around to the homes of tenants at Coccham, finding ways to help those who had been unfortunate but still clung to their pride. He will tell them that Finan helps him understand that even great men grow weary, and need great men behind them to help them find their way again. He will tell them how he learned from Sihtric that nothing is over until you've given your last breath. 

It is not the things that go on paper that make a man, but the things he carries in his heart.

He will think of them whenever he sees his sister, who to anyone who asks is his wife’s lady in waiting, but rides by his wife's side as her protector, and he feels their presence every time Sihtric Sihtricson stands beside him in battle, a worn hammer of Thor at his neck. Sairlaith and Sihtric are never far from his side. They are warriors, as they were meant to be. Aethelstan is king of all England because he does not fear having a Pagan on his left and a woman warrior on his right. 

Aethelstan does not know what brought him to his strange family of no ones, cast out and alone until they found each other. Be it fate, the gods, or his God, but he is thankful, for those people were his family. It is not written what made Aethelstan a good king and a fine man, only that he was fair and just as the First King of England and All The English. Yet it is known by those that matter, it is there, transcribed in his heart and passed down from father to son, mother to daughter, that the answer is love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. I handwaved the history at the end there guys. Not historically accurate, so please don’t judge. I think Aethelstan was actually crowned and then took Eforwich.
> 
> Thank you for joining me on this wild ride. The end has been (un)written since like chapter 3, but these characters are so awesome there is always just more to tell. I feel like.there could be endless chapters of Aethelstan learning to lead, and Coccham Squad 2.0 having adventures, but in the end this is Eadith, Finan and Aethelstan's story, so I wanted to close it by Aethelstan beginning on fulfilling his historic role. I'll be writing more in this fandom and maybe even in this verse.
> 
> Thank you again for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you have enjoyed. Little bits and pieces of this have been inspired by things found here and on Tumblr. The world needs more finan and certainly more Finan x Eadith. This will continue for the rest of S4 and beyond, and we will certainly get a look at Eadith's lovely brain, too.


End file.
